The Dragon Legion Collection(20)

Again.

It made no sense, but the scent was unmistakable. Alexander knew to trust his nose over his mind—he’d made the mistake of ignoring the information from his senses once already since his return.

Worse, mingled with the scent of Slayer was that of human terror.

What had the darkfire crystal done? It was a source of unpredictability, a connection to chaos, but Alexander couldn’t guess how much power it truly had. Could it rouse dead Slayers? Could it cast all of the Pyr into times and places other than their own, or just Drake’s company of warriors? Could it change the future as well as the past? He wished he knew more of what opponent he faced before he lunged into battle.

“What do you sense?” Katina asked, and Alexander wasn’t surprised that she wanted to know the worst of it. She was clever and might be able to help him to figure out what had happened. He needed to use all the advantages that came his way.

“I smell Slayer,” he said tersely. “That’s one of my kind who has turned against humans.” He shook his head, knowing he had to tell her the rest. “I had a whiff of it earlier, when Cetos returned, but ignored it.”

“Why would you ignore danger?”

“Because it made no sense. There aren’t any Slayers...here.”

“Yet there is one all the same,” Katina said matter-of-factly, much to Alexander’s relief. “What do you know of them?”

He considered her question, trying to recall all he knew of them. He’d had precious little contact with Slayers in the future, by his own choice. Their scent repulsed him, and he had no interest in being tainted by their evil. “He’s revealing his scent at intervals, then disguising it again.”


“Like a taunt.”

“Exactly like a taunt!” She was right. All Pyr taunted each other before battle. He was glad to know what this Slayer wanted, if not why. He’d get a fight from Alexander if he was tormenting a human.

“How does he do that?” Katina asked. “I’d think a scent would be constant.”

“It should be. Only those Slayers who have drunk the Dragon’s Blood Elixir have such power,” Alexander explained. He knew of two surviving Slayers who had consumed that vile potion. Assuming that the darkfire crystal hadn’t roused the dead—an assumption he couldn’t rely upon—it must be Jorge or Chen cast into the past with him.

Or perhaps one of them had pursued him. Chen had released the darkfire in the first place. Was it under his command? Was that why so much was going wrong?

Katina was watching Alexander closely, waiting for him to tell her more. Alexander wasn’t sure how to easily explain the question of passing through time, so stuck with the essentials. “And I smell a human who is terrified.”

“You have to save him,” Katina said immediately. “Put me down anywhere and fight the Slayer. I’ll help as much as possible.” Her practicality made Alexander remember just how much he loved her.

Perhaps they could work together, as some of the modern Pyr worked with their mates. Alexander flew at his quickest speed, following the scent. It was to the south of them, toward Sparta, which wasn’t encouraging at all. That it was being unveiled just for him was an unavoidable conclusion—which made it a lure as well as a taunt.

Lysander was en route to Sparta!

He had time to feel a pang of fear before he saw the blaze of dragonfire on the ground.

“There!” Katina said and gripped his arms.

She’d seen the flame, but wouldn’t discern the detail as well as he did. Alexander could see the dragon battling a Spartan hoplite in full uniform. He saw the dragonfire reflected in the warrior’s greaves and chest plate.

The Slayer was brilliant yellow, a dragon the color of topaz tipped in gold. There was something serpentine about this one, for he was large and powerful, but sinuous and sleek, too.

The color of the scales was telling. Somehow, Jorge was here in his own time. That wasn’t the best news as Jorge was vicious, but at least he didn’t control any old dragon magic.

Chen would have been worse. Alexander had no understanding of magic, be it that of dragons or others, and Chen was a master at dragon magic.

There was no time to be relieved, though. The hoplite slashed at the Slayer with his sword, so much smaller than the dragon that the fight could have only one outcome. The hoplite was valiant, but doomed. Alexander saw that the hoplite defended someone smaller than himself.

A boy.

Alexander prayed it wasn’t the boy he feared it was. “A hoplite fights the Slayer,” he told Katina, then breathed deeply. “There’s a boy. There might be another. His scent is odd, if so. It’s mingled with that of the Slayer in a strange way.”

“Great Zeus, no,” Katina whispered. “Pelias was wearing his hoplite armor when he came for Lysander.”

Alexander inhaled again, only recognizing the half-forgotten scent of his mentor when she supplied the name. “All paths lead to the same place,” he muttered, hating that she was right.

He flew to the far side of the fight, staying low against the ground. He doubted that he could surprise the Slayer if Jorge had invited him, but it was worth a try.

“We’ll appear suddenly from the far side of that outcropping,” he advised Katina softly. He hoped he wasn’t overheard, but there was no other way to communicate with her. “I’ll be downwind and he might be surprised. If so, seize the moment. Take Lysander, then run and hide.”