Warrior Lover (Draconia Tales) (23 page)

Lily leaned against the door frame and watched as Enar dressed. What she would give to have him back in the bath. “How do they call?”

“Didn’t you notice my head-pains?”

“Well, yes, but didn’t realize that’s what it was. You had me worried.”

His eyes widened and crinkled at her words. “They use mind-speak to tell you they request the honor of your presence in their Chamber and Goddess help you if you don’t show up immediately.”

Boots on, he strode to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “As I said, don’t go anywhere.” His lips crushed hers, a brief statement of possession that sent a thrill straight to her core. “I’ll be back.”

One of her fingers touched her lips as Enar walked to the door. He stopped and winked at her before pulling the door shut behind him. The click of the latch engaging freed her limbs and she rested her head against the wall.

So much for more sexy fun in the bath. She wiped dripping suds from her breast as she walked back to the bathing room. No sense in ignoring the bath. The hot water felt soothing as it embraced her in its heat, as she soaked in its slippery depths.

Resting on a conveniently located stone shelf that allowed most of her body to remain submerged, Lily floated her legs in front of her. If the rest of Draconia was as nice as this pool, she would enjoy living here.

But something told her Enar’s village would be different. How different? What was he hiding from her?

Despite the warmth of the water, a chill shook through her body and her eyes squinted closed. Before the vision struck, she pulled her upper body out of the water, pressing her cheek against the cold of the stone tile. The scene slammed through her mind like a knife through skin, the pain curling her fingers as she clawed at the unyielding stone.

A wail slammed through the room, echoing off the walls, rattling her bones.

Her cry as her heart felt ripped into jagged shards. Dear Goddess, no!

Chapter 18

Enar stormed out of the Temple, crossing the Courtyard to the back gate in record time. As if his back sprouted wings and flew him. He wished he had wings. Then he could fly away someplace with Lily.

If dreams were gold pieces, he’d be rich.

The gate leading out of the Temple Courtyard squeaked open only to slam shut, the wood shuddering as Enar’s hand released it. Gravel crunched under his boots, his shadow elongated from the glowing orbs of light lining the path. Darkness crept to the edge of the light circles, rustling insects’ wings into a cascading symphony in the deepening twilight.

Twice in a day. What was the Council thinking to call him back into their presence? He’d rather have a cold enema.

Not only did his head hurt, but they interrupted his lovemaking with Lily. He needed to convince her she couldn’t live without him, despite his returning with her to his village. What would he do without her?

Goddess, but he loved that woman.

Enar froze at the thought. Just up and stopped moving. Love? His brain must be addled by the Council’s call. Yes, that was it. Love was a sappy emotion demonstrated by the average Draconi male. Like Thoren. Watchers didn’t possess anything resembling love.

But he couldn’t stop his chest from clenching as he thought about Lily, as he remembered the beauty in her face, her laugh, her smile.

She belonged to him. His.

Clearly he’d been around the Draconi too long as evidenced by these thoughts of l...He coughed. Not using that word again.

His feet got with the walking program and continued on their way to the Council.

Enar marched to the heavy wooden doors barring entrance to the Chamber of the Council, slapped his hands against them and shoved. The doors flew open with a bang, ricocheting off the stone walls. Enar caught them on the rebound, adding to their momentum so they slammed shut, the noise echoing in the round, stone chamber.

Thoren stood arms crossed in front of the half circle of men, his lips twisting into a grin at Enar’s approach.

Bloody, blithering bastards. Why had they called both him and Thoren?

His gaze ran over the faces of the thirteen, landing on his father’s snarl. And in an instant, his anger went from simmering to blown out rage.

Enar stalked past Thoren, stopping directly in front of Viktor.

“Twice in one day? I have a life outside of this Council.”

“Not by my wishes, you don’t,” Enar’s father hissed at him.

“Silence!” Alviss’s voice boomed throughout the room as he gestured for a snarling Enar to stand beside Thoren.

“You have been called here because intruders have been spotted on Draconi territory. We thought you would like to handle it.” Alviss’s eyes sparkled as he looked at them.

“Why us?” Thoren asked.

Good question. Usually reconnaissance specialists did not fight off intruders. On the rare occasion an intruder crossed into Draconia, the Council used their special set of Watchers and Draconi trained to handle that type of thing. And he and Thoren did not belong to that special set.

Not that he’d mind knocking around some heads at the moment. Starting with his father.

“Because of whom we suspect the intruders are.” Alviss waved his hand, causing a ball with flickering images to hover mid-air. He beckoned Thoren and Enar to peer into the depths.

White mist swirled in the seeing ball, coalescing into clouds that separated in half, forming a vision. Enar squinted at the flickering images. Son of a goat. How had they crossed the Draconian ward lines?

Simon from River’s Run and a figure wearing a cloak that hid his face sat around a campfire surrounded by a contingent of soldiers. Enar’s hands tingled at the thought of fighting the pompous lord from Lily’s village. Those men had kidnapped and drugged Keara, causing harm to a Draconi female.

For that alone they needed to die. Enar glanced at Thoren, taking in his best friend’s snarl as steam escaped his ears, whipping around his face.

One mad, mated male Draconi and his equally infuriated Watcher coming right up. Blood Seeker vibrated against his back as the sword shook in anticipation of drinking blood.

The thing was thirsty.

And he was more than happy to feed it. It had been a long time since the sword fed.

“Where are they?” Thoren growled.

“So they are the ones that captured Keara?” Alviss asked.

Thoren swallowed and the steam circling his head disappeared, the snarl crossing his lip remaining etched. “Yes.”

“Is the mission capture or destroy?” Enar fingered the hilt of Blood Seeker.

“Destroy,” Thoren said, his stare daring Alviss to refuse him.

Alviss’s wrinkles convulsed into a smile. “Destroy. These are the ones that harmed my granddaughter.” He peered closer, his eyes blinking. “Is the one in the cloak a Draconi?”

“According to Keara he is.” Thoren’s jaw ticked.

“Then you must capture him and bring him to us for questioning. Then you may kill him after we speak to him.”

“It will be my pleasure.”

“They are right inside Draconi territory. The wards must be weakened for them to have crossed the border or that rogue Draconi has more power than he should. After you have secured the territory, see if you can determine the strength of the wards so we can send someone out to restore them. May the Goddess bless your mission and may the ones that considered defiling my granddaughter die in pain.”

Thoren grabbed Enar’s arm and transported him to the woods where the soon-to-be-dead men camped.

Five fires burned brightly in a small clearing in the woods. Six men sat around each fire. If Simon and the rogue Draconi had prepared well, several men would be patrolling the perimeter of the camp. No more than forty men to their two. Not a problem.

Blood Seeker started to hum as it scented fresh blood, vibrating through its sheath, through the cloth of Enar’s shirt. The hum cycled into a higher pitch as Enar pulled the sword from its sheath, the vibrations traveling up the metal into the flesh of his hands. Power ran alongside the vibrations, power that slammed through his veins, infusing him with its magic, its strength. Enough power to defeat all the intruders, but Enar knew better than to kill Simon or the hooded Draconi. Thoren wanted that privilege.

Thoren crouched in the shadows, staring across the campfires into the darkness of the trees, obviously locating his target. Those who sat out in the open, defiling Draconi lands by their mere presence.

“Blood Seeker is thirsty. Are you going to sit on your arse all night or do we get to have some fun?” Enar stroked the runes on Blood Seeker’s blade, readying the sword to drink.

“Simon and the Draconi are mine.”

Just as he planned. Enar inclined his head. “May the Goddess go with you.”

“And also with you.”

Enar crept away from Thoren, leaving his best friend to his own devices. Once out of Thoren’s listening range, Enar touched Blood Seeker’s blade again, this time whispering words to turn the sword into a conduit. Each blow dealt, each life taken, each drop of blood spilled onto the cold metal blade infused Enar with powerful magic, rendering him virtually invincible to anything non-magical.

The runes pulsed beneath his fingers, a wordless communication. Enar said a brief prayer to the Goddess and then let out a war cry as he ran into the clearing.

The soldiers scrambled for their weapons, tripping over their feet, turning the clearing into a frantic jumble of bodies. Enar swung at his first victim, Blood Seeker severing a head of a slow moving soldier. He tilted the sword’s tip toward the canopy of leaves, crimson rivulets streaking across the runes etched into the blade. Blood Seeker hummed as it absorbed the blood’s power, sending a jolt of energy through Enar’s hands, supercharging the blood running through his veins. Strength, power, invincibility.

Time slowed, soldiers running toward him as if stuck in mud, their movements slow, cumbersome. A thrust through the heart, turn, parry, block. Another fell, rid of his spirit, his life’s blood fueling the fight.

This part of a battle thrilled him, the hum of too much power coursing through his veins, the knowledge of invincibility. One against thirty, more like twenty-eight, make that twenty-seven now. Soldiers from the other campfires joined the fight, trying to circle around Enar. He heard their footsteps crackling in leaves, the pop of a log settling in the fire, the brilliance of sounds loud with his hyped-up senses. He looked the soldier in front of him directly in the eye, and bared his teeth.

“Don’t move.”

The Adam’s apple of the soldier bobbed, the mouth opening in horror as Enar rammed his sword into the man’s belly.

The power of persuasion was a real killer.

A whish of air heralded the movement of a weapon from behind him. Enar jumped to the side and spun, Blood Seeker slicing through the neck of a narrow-eyed soldier. Twenty-five left.

He might be the laughingstock of his village, but no one, not even his father, could refute his fighting skills. Speed and agility followed him in a fight, making him the fastest Watcher with a blooded magical sword. He won all practice fights against men stronger than himself.

But speed and agility only slowed the taunts.

Thoughts like those didn’t belong on a battlefield. Wiping everything but what stood before him from his mind, Enar swung at the soldier standing in front of him. Another speed-impaired man fell. The quicker he dispatched the soldiers, the quicker he could return to Lily’s side. He picked up his pace.

His last fight had been so long ago he had forgotten the rate at which time slowed. How quick his movements became in relation to his opponents. The heightened senses. The more Blood Seeker drank, the faster Enar moved. The faster Enar moved, the more soldiers died.

And thanks to the magic passed to him through his mother, he could suggest a man stand still and let Enar kill him. It might not be the most sporting thing to do, but it had its advantages. Like now.

Enar spun in a circle, shouting, “Stop!”

The soldiers attempting to engage him froze while Enar darted out of the circle, jogging around the ring of men until he stood at their backs.

“Go,” he muttered, swinging his sword through a belly.

Gasps sounded as the men looked around, trying to determine where he went. He hacked through the mass, the soldiers stunned motionless by his reappearance. Not sporting, but it definitely sped things along. Twenty left.

Several of the little weasels tried to run off, obviously frightened by his disappearing act, but were stopped dead by the Draconi wards. At least the exit wards still worked even if the entrance ones had lost power.

Curious thing, that. One he didn’t have time to ponder as another wave of soldiers brandishing swords advanced.

Metal screeched against metal as swords locked, battling for dominance. Enar pulled his blade free and kicked backward, striking the man sneaking up behind him. The man fell on his arse with a grunt. The soldier in front of him swung his sword with the speed of a slug. Enar stepped to the side and stabbed the soldier, blood spraying as he yanked the blade out of the man’s chest.

Enar barely registered the surprise on the now-dead soldier’s face before whirling to counter the man he kicked. That one went down with a parry and thrust, more bluster than fighting skill.

Two more took flight directly into the Draconi wards, either not seeing their dead brethren or not caring in their race to escape Blood Seeker.

A dozen ringed him, fear in their eyes, their swords trembling. Enar laughed, the sound bouncing off the trees, echoing like frightened fire in the reflections of the soldiers’ gazes. He swore a couple even wet their pants.