The Lady of the Storm - 2 (34 page)

Giles stared into unearthly blue eyes, as brilliant as Cecily’s but so cold they glittered like ice. The elven lord wore an embroidered coat of blue, with a scarlet waistcoat beneath, as if he entertained at some lavish ball. Lace tumbled down his throat and danced in the wind about his sleeves. His white hair sparkled with tiny silver flashes, as if stardust had been sprinkled within it. He looked almost as beautiful as his daughter.

Giles needed to keep him talking. It would give Cecily more time to get away. “Why don’t you ask Kalah?”

One white brow rose. “The beast is oddly reticent tonight. But I daresay I have a more pressing question than that. What happened to my champion? Or did his human blood finally prove what an oaf he is?”

“Didn’t your demon tell you?”

“I’m afraid that once my pet told me my scepter had been stolen, I lost my temper. It felt… glorious.”

Sweat popped out in Giles’s hand and he clutched his sword tighter. The coldness of the elven lord rivaled Mor’ded of Firehame, who at least had some humanity within his soul.

“
I
defeated Fletcher,” said Giles. “Just as I shall defeat you.”

Breden threw back his head and laughed, the sound like some musical notes of a dirge. “Ah, I wish I had more time to play with you, human. But I must retrieve that which is mine. Although, yes, let us see about this sword of yours.”

And without warning, a bolt of lightning flew from his fingers at Giles—the full force of the charge that had unseated him within that single beam. His devil-blade managed to deflect a portion of it back at the elven lord, but the dragon lifted a wing and shielded the elf.

Giles wished Kalah would make up his mind about whom he was helping, here.

Pain shot down Giles’s arm and it dropped to his side, his sword falling from numb fingers onto the muddy road. His devil-blade hissed as it fell, steam rising from it as the rain doused the metal. He almost felt sorry for it.

“You animals,” said Breden, shaking his elegant head in mock sympathy. “When will you learn that the talismans you craft for protection will never stand up to an elven lord’s power? I find it most amusing though. Rather like one of your monkeys trying to defend itself with a branch.”

Giles fisted his left hand, for he wanted nothing more than to clutch his right and howl with pain just like the animal Breden accused him of being. The skin of his palm had blackened and the raindrops that fell upon it lanced him like shards of ice.

He had to keep the elven lord talking. Had to buy Cecily more time. But his brain felt addled and his ears kept ringing.

“What difference is there between my sword and your scepter? Talk about waving around a stick…”

Thunder cracked above and shook the very air. Giles thought he heard the pounding of hooves in the aftermath. Had Apollo returned to his master? But he could not look around. He dare not take his gaze away from the elven lord’s cruel blue eyes.

“I can see why Kalah wants you dead,” said Breden. Lightning zigged from one black cloud to another. The elf lifted his hand toward it as if gathering flowers for a posy and it flew to him, dancing about his hands. “Despite how amusing it is to find a human foolish enough to spar with me, I grow bored. ’Tis our ever-present burden, you see. After centuries of existence, life lacks any sort of challenge.” He tossed the swirling ball of lightning straight at Giles.

Someone screamed.

Not Giles, for he’d been ready for the attack. Indeed, he leaped up and forward using all of the elven strength he possessed. As a result, the fireball barely grazed him, setting the tails of his coat ablaze but not altering his course a whit. He flew over the dragon’s great head and hit Breden bodily, both of them grunting as they tumbled in a heap down Kalah’s tail.

Breden’s body burned hotter than an open forge. Giles rolled away from him, dousing the flames of his coat on the flooded road in the process.

A delicate hand touched his shoulder, and he looked up into familiar blue eyes.

“Dammit.”

“Are you hurt?”

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be far away… safe.”

Cecily held the scepter in her other hand, the thing glowing an unearthly blue, crackles of light at its tip. “When will you understand that we can never be—?”

“So, it is you,” said Breden of Dewhame.

The elven lord had regained his feet. Giles struggled upright as well, although he could not stand so steadily.

Cecily jerked as if his words had the weight to strike her down. Then she lifted her chin and glared at him. “Hello, Father.”

“Of course it had to be you,” continued Breden. “Only a human who sprang from my very loins would have the audacity—or the power—to steal my scepter.”

Giles did not mention that Fletcher had managed to touch the thing. That knowledge might be to the Rebellion’s advantage.

“You’ve led me a merry chase, girl.” Breden’s eyes glittered with—had he been human, Giles would have said that a bit of pride shone in those blue depths.

“Hiding your power of the sky,” continued the elven lord, “has been a clever move. I’m sure I would have sensed a false storm and found you years ago. But alas, it seems you have found me, have you not? ’Tis a pity that I will have to destroy you. This is the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

Cecily blinked at this little speech and Giles’s heart ached for her. He knew she had harbored some small hope that her father would welcome her with open arms. That he would not be the monster everyone made him out to be.

“She can use it,” said Giles. “The scepter accepts her. I suggest you let her go.”

The rain ceased. Only its sudden absence reminded Giles of it.

Something flickered within Breden’s eyes. Doubt? Or could it possibly be fear?

“Kalah,” he commanded. “Get it for me.”

The dragon shifted, scale sliding along scale with a grating slither. Those enormous eyes looked oddly similar to the elven lord’s, but the color had been sliced into sections with jagged silver lines, like some badly cut pie. He shook out his great wings with a spray of moonlit water, and then folded them neatly against his sides.

Cecily, who had faced her father with a brave face, blanched as the great beast settled his gaze upon her.

“I think not,” said Kalah, his voice sounding like boulders tumbling down a hillside. “You must prove it is your right to wield it, mad elfling.” And he picked up his foreleg, studying his talons like a human would inspect his nails, dismissing the three of them with arrogant disdain.

Surprise crossed Breden’s handsome features. And then anger. And then anticipation.

Giles stepped in front of Cecily. “I won’t let you touch her.”

The elven lord laughed, a melodic evil sound, and raised his hands up to the sky. The boom of thunder and the resulting lightning shot straight into his hands, making them glow.

“No,” cried Cecily, ducking under Giles’s arm and facing her father, avoiding Giles’s attempts to shove her back behind his body. “I do not want this thing. I… I hate it!”

White brows rose.

“I shall give it to you. Just let him go. Let the man go.”

“Perfect,” barked the elven lord. “True love! Time and again I have seen it weaken you humans, and yet you still allow it to control your actions. Come now, Daughter, do not make this too easy for me.” And with a flick of his wrist, a bolt hit Giles in the gut, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him flying backward.

Giles lost his vision yet again, but this time he saw nothing but blackness. Cecily’s touch upon his forehead felt far away, and the sound of her voice seemed to echo in his head.

“Don’t do this, Father. Don’t force me to acknowledge my true powers. You will not like the results.”

“You can’t,” spat Breden. “You might have elven blood running through your veins, but you’re too human, my girl. Nothing but a sniveling coward of an animal, too frightened of that which you don’t understand. It will be humankind’s downfall.”

Giles’s vision started to clear. He raised his head. Cecily had stepped in front of his feet, physically blocking Giles with her body. He wanted to protest. It was his job to protect
her
. But his tongue would not work. Neither would his legs.

“In the same way that love will make us weak?”

Giles blinked. Cecily seemed to glow with her words, the scepter in her hand spitting forth streaks of liquid fire. Devil take it, the foolish woman would embrace the power she had rejected for so long. A power that she feared and loathed and thought would turn her into just as much of a monster as her father. All just to protect Giles.

He could not let her do it. Somehow he struggled to his feet. But the world spun and tilted at a crazy angle.

Breden of Dewhame did not hesitate. The sky rumbled again; Giles could actually feel the earth shake beneath his boots, and myriad lightning bolts flashed in the sky. The elven lord raised his arms to call them to him.

But Cecily had raised the scepter as well.

The lightning split. Half to Breden. Half to Cecily.

They would destroy each other.

“No,” shouted Giles. But the word issued from his throat as a gravelly whisper.

The world exploded yet again. Again, Giles was lifted off his feet and thrown backward, far beyond the road into a hedge of bushes that broke his fall.

Giles heard a man scream. In anger and sheer agony.

Then silence.

A huff of wind warmed his body. He looked up into the luminous gaze of… the dragon.

“This is bound to happen when you fall in love with someone strong enough to wield a scepter,” said the beast. “Can you stand?”

Giles nodded, although truly he didn’t know until he managed it. He looked over at the road. Two bodies lay still within mud that steamed around them.

Something tightened his chest, his throat. He thought he might scream from the pain within his heart, if he could only manage it.

“She is alive,” said Kalah. “So is the mad elf. But it remains to be seen if they are… undamaged.”

Giles did not wait to ask what the dragon meant. He staggered over to Cecily, fell at her side.

Black smudged her nose. The front of her dress. She looked lovely, as if for all the world she did naught but sleep. Her chest rose and fell, but so faintly. She still clutched the scepter within her fist.

Giles leaned down and kissed her. Within that touch he put all the love he felt within his heart. All the apology he could manage for the way he had doubted her. Had he truly thought her love would not be strong enough to overcome something as small as a green mark upon his face?

When she would embrace a power she despised to save him?

“Cecily,” he murmured. “Wake up, love. It is time to go now.”

She did not stir. Neither did the elven lord.

“What’s wrong with them?”

The beast’s footsteps shivered the mud. He prodded Breden gently with his talon. “They have fried each other. The elven lord has always been mad, but managed to retain his faculties. It will be interesting to see how much of them remain.”

Giles looked at Cecily in horror. “She will be insane?”

“Only time will tell. Why do you humans insist that we dragons have all the answers?” Kalah snorted a stream of lightning bolts and Giles flinched. He would never manage to sleep through a storm again. The beast curled his talons around the body of the elven lord and lifted him from the mud with a sucking sound. Those glowing eyes looked up at the sky. “The storm has cleared. Imagine that.” And his wings spread to glorious proportions. A beat, and then another, making Giles hunch against the force of the wind he created.

And without another word, the dragon disappeared into the dark night.

***

Cecily did not wake until they were in the cabin of the
Argonaut
.

It had taken Giles some time to gather the horses and recover his sword, and another few hours to reach Bristol and find the ship. He did not know how much time they might have. But Breden of Dewhame had looked even worse than Cecily, and he thought the elven lord might have suffered the worst from the encounter.

They might manage to escape after all.

The captain did not ask any questions about their haggard appearance, nor inquire as to Cecily’s unconscious condition, apparently used to his missions for the Rebellion. He just quickly directed them to a small cabin below decks and went about the business of raising sail.

When a seaman brought two buckets of water, a bundle of cloth, and a little jar of ointment that smelled like herbs, Giles bade him thank the captain. The grizzly sailor nodded, staring at the mark on Giles’s face, and then crossed himself in fear.

To his surprise, Giles found that he did not care. Cecily did not bother with such a thing, and only her opinion mattered. He just wished he’d realized it sooner. What if she did not wake? What if her eyes held nothing but madness when she did?

He tried not to think of it as he gently undressed her, frowning at the burn marks here and there upon her smooth skin. He gently washed her, rubbed in the ointment where needed, and spoke to her the whole while.