The Dragon Legion Collection(21)

“And Pelias?”

“I’ll defend him as best I can. You won’t convince him to run.”

Katina nodded, her gaze locked upon the scene below as they came closer. “I’ll hide somewhere too small for a dragon to follow. Somewhere with water.” She pointed to the valley filled with large rocks where there might be water. “Down there.”

It would be a good start, although Alexander was skeptical that any woman could hide from Jorge. He decided not to frighten Katina and merely nodded. “See yourselves safe. I’ll find you wherever you go.”

Katina cast him an unexpected smile. “I know.”

The look in her eyes warmed Alexander’s heart, but there was no time for more discussion. He held her tightly and dove behind the outcropping, like a spear falling out of the night.

The Slayer seized the hoplite’s sword and flung it aside, then breathed a long stream of dragonfire at his opponent. Pelias held up his shield to defend himself. The red plume in Pelias’ helmet caught fire, and he bowed low as if injured. Jorge leapt forward to snatch at him, clearly hoping to triumph.

But Pelias straightened abruptly. The dagger in his hand flashed even as he lunged at the dragon. He covered his eyes, leaping through the dragonfire with incredible valor. Alexander caught a glimpse of the determination in Pelias’ expression and the fear in the eyes of the boy who lingered behind him.

A boy who looked much like Alexander. Terror for his son was a cold weight in Alexander’s gut. He put Katina down without landing, glad to hear Jorge snarl in pain.

Any weakness would help.

When he rose higher, he saw Jorge’s black blood spill and heard it hiss as it hit the ground. Only Slayers had black blood. Were the Slayers who had drunk the Elixir really immortal? Did they actually heal with unholy speed? Alexander tried to remember all the stories he’d heard about them, none of the details reassuring him in the least. He faltered when he caught the scent of death on Jorge, the scent of Cetos’ death, and knew that his mate was reliant upon him again.

Even though he could guarantee her so little. He didn’t dare rejoice that she was a widow, not when she could become a widow twice over in one night.

Alexander refused to despair in the face of the unpredictability of darkfire and the malice of a Slayer. He focused on the task of defeating Jorge.

Jorge roared with fury and slashed at Pelias with his claws. Pelias leapt backward, snatching up his shield in the nick of time. Jorge’s stream of dragonfire was deflected by the shield and turned back on the Slayer, who roared in fury. Alexander leapt over the rock and struck the Slayer in the back of the head with his tail while he was distracted. Jorge stumbled then turned with a snarl, leaping into the air to fight.

Pelias had fallen to his knees. Alexander caught a glimpse of Katina running toward Lysander, then locked claws with Jorge, intent upon drawing him away from the humans.

He noticed immediately that the Slayer’s wings weren’t as large or as strong as they should be. He beat his own wings hard and drew Jorge high into the night sky. He wound his tail around Jorge’s yellow one and tightened his grip, wanting to squeeze the life out of this evil dragon. He saw the glimmer of malice in the Slayer’s eyes, even as he bent forward to bite at his opponent’s chest.

The hoplite had managed to wound Jorge, no small feat, his dagger blade having slipped between two scales on the Slayer’s chest. Black blood still oozed from the wound, dripping over the golden splendor of his scales.

“Sure you want to take a bite?” Jorge drawled, his modern accent startling Alexander. His eyes gleamed. “I’ve drunk the Dragon’s Blood Elixir. One sip and you’re hooked forever.”


“I thought you wanted more immortal Slayers.”

“But there’s no more Elixir. I don’t need the competition. Find another snack.” Jorge lurched sideways, tearing one claw out of Alexander’s grip. Alexander slashed at his opponent’s chest with his free claw, and the Slayer arched his back with the pain. Three long lines were torn in his scales, the black blood running freely from the wounds. Alexander dug his talons in deep, ensuring that he made the blow count. The Slayer’s eyes flashed, then he ripped his tail free, striking Alexander hard across the back.

Alexander spun, using the weight of the blow, then seized one of those small wings. It felt fragile and weak, so he ripped it from the Slayer’s back.

He knew the other wing wouldn’t be robust enough to support the Slayer’s weight and Jorge clearly knew it, too. He became vicious in his attack, but Alexander flung him into the sky. The Slayer swore eloquently as he fell, flailing as he tried to slow his descent with his one small wing. Alexander flew after him and roasted his back with dragonfire. The second wing began to burn and become smaller, even as Jorge screamed and swore.

He twisted to face Alexander, then exhaled a long plume of dragonsmoke. Alexander knew exactly what the Slayer was trying to do. Dragonsmoke could act as a conduit, stealing energy from its target and feeding that strength to the dragon who breathed the smoke. Alexander evaded the tendril of smoke, flying farther and farther from the Slayer to do so.

“An interesting strategy,” he taunted in old-speak. “You ensure that I can’t save you from a fatal fall.”

“I’ll ensure that I survive it on my own.”

“Your plan doesn’t seem to be working.”