The Dragon Legion Collection(22)

Jorge laughed. “Only because you mistake my target.” He turned then and directed his long trail of dragonsmoke toward the earth. The smoke turned and dove downward, as sinuous as a snake. Alexander had never seen dragonsmoke change direction so adroitly.

“Stand up,” Jorge roared aloud even as he fell, and a small boy stumbled to his feet. This was the scent that had confused Alexander, the human scent that had been submerged beneath the Slayer’s own. Did that mean the boy was in Jorge’s thrall?

How? Why?

The boy was pale and thin, as if he had lost weight and health recently. His eyes seemed to be too large for his face and his submissiveness was unnatural. He obediently stood and turned his face upward, then closed his eyes to wait. Alexander was struck that the child moved as if he were in a dream.

The dragonsmoke plummeted toward the boy, aiming directly at his chest. The boy staggered at the impact, but didn’t appear to be surprised by it. He straightened and braced his feet against the ground, as if preparing for a familiar ordeal. Alexander watched the line of dragonsmoke and thought of a viper burying its teeth deep and drinking of the boy’s essence. Sucking him dry. The line of dragonsmoke became thicker and less ethereal, even as Alexander watched, and he was horrified that he might be right.

He looked back at Jorge to find that Slayer grinning. His wing had already grown stronger, because he was able to slow his descent. There was a nub already growing where the other wing had been torn away. Alexander was watching the new wing form.

Jorge’s eyes shone as he landed beside the boy. The boy was wilting visibly even as the Slayer regained his power. Jorge took one last deep breath, then broke the line of dragonsmoke with obvious regret. His scales shone more brightly, as if they had been polished, and the blood had stopped flowing on his chest. Even those wounds seemed to be closing already.

“A wonderful discovery,” Jorge said in his gloating tone. He patted the boy on the head. “I fed him the Elixir, knowing that a rapidly growing boy would make more blood and thus more Elixir for me. He’s already repaid me ten times over.”

Alexander landed warily, pretending not to see Pelias—or be aware that the warrior was still alive. He could hear Pelias’ pulse, slow and steady, and his breathing. The older man was injured but not dead. Alexander wasn’t sure he could save either Pelias or this boy, but was glad there was no sign of Katina or Lysander. He assessed the scent of the boy carefully.

“Yes,” the Slayer agreed. “He is Pyr, or he would have been.” He smiled down at the boy. “Theo, say hello to one of the Dragon’s Tooth Warriors.” Theo just blinked slowly. “This is one of the men commanded by your father, Theo, unless I miss my guess.”

This was Drake’s son! Alexander couldn’t completely hide his surprise or dismay, and the Slayer chuckled. “What kind of vermin takes advantage of someone weaker than himself?” he demanded before he could stop himself.

“What kind of fools leave their sons undefended?”

“Those who serve for the good of all.”

Jorge smiled. “How many boys did you all leave behind?” he hissed, clearly not expecting an answer. “All those young Pyr, devoid of fathers and training and protection.” He was gleeful at the prospect. “I intend to find them all and put them to work, creating Elixir and energy for me to heal. I’ll get all my power back!” His grin broadened. “And if there are mates to sample along the way, I assure you that they won’t be overlooked.”

Alexander felt sick. “What happened to Cassandra?” he demanded, referring to Drake’s wife.

“Tell him, Theo,” the Slayer invited, his jovial manner no doubt untrustworthy. “What happened to your mother?”

The boy shuddered from head to toe. He lifted agonized eyes to Alexander. “She’s dead, sir.”

Alexander was glad that Drake wasn’t present to see the devastation in his son’s eyes.

“I’ve discovered a taste for mate,” Jorge said, his voice so low and silky that Alexander couldn’t suppress a shudder. He had no sooner hoped that this fiend was oblivious to Katina’s presence than the Slayer turned to scan the rocky hilltop, his nostrils working. “Where have the other mate and young Pyr gone? Is she yours?” Jorge grinned. “Maybe I’ll let you watch.”



* * *



Katina had urged Lysander into a low and rocky place, one that was dark and wet. She could smell the water there and felt safer in the shadows.

Her son didn’t share her view.

“I want to see!” Lysander protested, when Katina would have made him duck low in their hiding place.

“We have to stay safe,” she insisted. “I promised your father.”

“My father! Is that who the dark dragon is?” At this news, it was even harder to hold her son back. “Pelias said that my father had a gift and that I might have it, too.”

“What did Pelias tell you?”

“That my father was Spartan, which I knew, so that I needed to go to the agoge and train to be a warrior. But he said that my father was an elite warrior, and that he would watch me to see if I had my father’s powers.”

“Did he tell you what those powers were?”

“He said that my father was Pyr, and that the Pyr are charged with the task of defending the four elements and the treasures of the earth, which include mankind. He said that the Pyr can change shape, that they are touched by the grace of the gods, and can become ferocious dragons.”