Origin of Magic (Dragon's Gift: The Protector #3)(47)

“I’m too smart to take that bet,” Del said.

Beside her, Roarke chuckled.

I pushed open the large stable door and was proven correct. It was dimly lit by several strands of the enchanted fairy lights. A long corridor led down the length, with stalls along both sides.

It wasn’t heated, which was strange. Poor horses. They whinnied as we stepped inside. I headed straight for the back, following the pull of my dragon sense.

In a stall near the back, a man stood tending to a huge black horse. He rubbed a brush over the animal’s hide, but stilled when I knocked on the stall door. My friends gathered at my back.

The horse looked toward me first, and I gasped at the sight of its flame-red eyes. Actual fire burned within the horse’s eyes. And he had fangs.

Wow.

The man turned and frowned at me. “Who are you?”

“I’m Phoenix Knight.” I considered using my given name, Lividius, but I preferred the one I’d chosen when I was fifteen. “Are you Torus?”

“I am.”

“Ademius has sent me. We need to find Drakon.”

The man’s jaw firmed, his eyes turning wary. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I want to destroy him.”

Interest glinted in his eyes. “Do you, now?”

“I’m fated to.”

A slight smile tugged at his lips. “Fate, you say?”

“You don’t believe in fate?” I asked.

“I once did, but now?” He shook his head, eyes sad. “If fate does exist, you’ll need its help to defeat Drakon.”

“Can you help us find him?”

“I can, yes.”

“What will it cost?” Ares asked.

“Nothing.” The man shook his head. “If you succeed in this, I will have everything I want.”

“You hate Drakon that much?”

“You have no idea.” Darkness colored his voice. “If we leave now, you can be there in two hours. Can you ride?”

“Not particularly well,” I said.

“We can hold on,” Cass said. “This can’t be that much different than a camel.”

I grinned. We’d ridden camels once, through the desert. But these horses were definitely different.

“What kind of horses are these?” I asked. “They have flames for eyes and don’t seem bothered by the cold.” At least, I hoped they weren’t bothered.

“They were once normal horses. But time has changed them. Drakon has changed them.” Anger reddened the man’s cheeks.

“How?” Ares asked.

“His influence has polluted this desert. Turned the market and everything within it dark. The horses may not mind the cold, but they no longer play as they used to. His darkness has seeped into them, stealing their joy.”

Bastard. I hated Drakon. “Does this mean that this is not the biggest Curse Market in the world? That something else made it dark?”

“Exactly.” Torus sighed. “Go. Meet me outside. I’ll bring your rides.”

We filed out of the barn, waiting in the cold night for Torus and his horses. After fifteen minutes, they filed out of the stable in a line, each fitted with black saddles and bridles.

I chose one of the smaller ones, which was still bigger than any normal horse I’d ever seen. His hooves were massive.

“His name is Flint,” Torus said. “He’s brave and strong. You’ve chosen well.”

“Hi Flint.” I climbed into the saddle, finding it not as difficult as I’d expected. Ares made it look like a piece of cake, though, all but leaping into the saddle. Claire and Connor were pretty good, too, no doubt all that time in their bucolic English childhood, galloping horses across the moor.

In fairness, I’d invented that childhood for them in my head. They didn’t ever speak of their childhood.

Torus walked his horse over toward me. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

He led us away from the bazaar, toward the great black open of Siberia. A half moon shed light over rolling black sands of desert.

We followed in a loose cluster, like we were out for the deadliest trail ride in history. I didn’t think there’d be any marshmallows roasting over an open fire.

I directed my horse toward Torus, hoping to grill him for info. Astride his horse, he looked like he could gallop through Sleepy Hollow. All he needed to do was lose his head.

I angled my horse to walk alongside his. “This is a desert. I didn’t know there was one here. Aren’t we at the northern edge of Siberia, near the sea?”

“We are. There shouldn’t be a desert so far north, nor so close to the sea. And certainly not one like this. But it is Drakon’s influence, twisting the land around his castle. Polluting it.”

“That’s why you hate him?”

“Yes. He destroyed my pasture, twisted my family’s horses.” He patted the neck of the great beast he rode.

“How long has he lived there?”

“Nearly a hundred years.”

A hundred years? He hadn’t looked nearly that old. There was no plastic surgery that good. Which meant dark magic had to be at play, no question.

“It wasn’t always this dark here, though,” Torus said. “It happened over time, growing worse and worse. Our settlement won’t last much longer if he doesn’t leave.”