Light My Fire (Dragon Kin #7)(51)

She dropped the priest’s body, kicked out the shards of glass that could cut them, and forced Celyn through. She quickly followed, took his hand, and started running.

Celyn didn’t know how long they ran . . . or when they reached their horses . . . or how he got on his horse and started riding . . . or how long they rode.

He just knew he had to stop, dismount, go off to the side of the road, and throw up everything he’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours.

The vomiting seemed to go on for hours, but he couldn’t have stopped it even if he’d wanted to.

When, finally, he could think again, Elina was there with a pigskin of water.

“Here. Drink.”

He was so dehydrated now, he finished it all.

“What the hells . . . what the hells happened?”

“You do not smoke, do you?”

“Only from my nostrils. And only when I’m annoyed.”

Elina gave a short laugh. “Not that kind of smoke. Before the Daughters of Steppes ride into battle, we take plants from land, dry them, shred them, and then smoke.”

“Why?”

“It makes one feel invincible. And most of the Daughters usually are. I smoked little because I usually stayed back with the old people and the children. But Glebovicha used to force me to attend the ritual anyway . . . to stand by and watch. So that I was well aware that I was not worthy to be among the warriors.” She shrugged. “I have been around so much smoke that none affects me now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’m not quite sure. But I really feel like I should say I’m sorry.”

Elina shook her head. “For this, you should not apologize. This had nothing to do with you and everything to do with these cult people.”

“This is bad,” Celyn said, forcing himself to stand. “Worse than we thought. I mean, the building alone . . .”

“It’s like they want all priests and disciples of the other gods to know they are bigger and better.”

“We can’t stay here. I’m sure they’ll be coming for us.”

With a shrug, “If they have not caught up to us by now . . .”

“It’s not like we’ve traveled that far, woman. We can’t wait here for them to show up.”

Elina studied Celyn for a long moment without saying a word.

“What?” he pushed when the silence went on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“We have been on road for five hours.”

As Celyn stumbled back, Elina caught his arm, the only reason he didn’t slip in his own vomit.

“What?”

“We backtracked a bit, went through river to destroy our scent, then headed long way round until we reached road again. I doubt they will find us.”

“I don’t remember any of that. I don’t remember anything.”

Celyn paced around Elina, his hands on his head. “This is bad. Much worse than I thought.”

“So what do you want to do? We cannot sit here all day.”

“Costentyn.”

“I do not know that word.”

“It’s not a word. It’s a dragon. An old dragon. Might no longer be living, but he knows a lot.”

“Why would he know anything of what we need?”

“He likes knowledge. From books. From other dragons. Even from people. He loves to wander through towns and villages as human, talking to everyone. When I was younger, my father and I used to go to his cave to chat. My father would ask advice and I would just listen. He always had such interesting information. And, unlike some cranky Riders I know, he was never stingy with the answers when I asked questions.”

“It is not that you ask questions, Dolt. It is that you ask so many. Why must you ask so many?”

“Because I’m curious. Imagine if we hadn’t gone into that giant penis temple.”

“We would not be wanted for murder?”

Celyn winced. “Good point.”

“But you are right. Most people find their own way to the gods. This is like . . . they are being trapped. Their mind stopped and wiped clean so someone else’s truth and lies can replace everything else the person knows. I do not like that. I do not think it is fair.” She walked to her horse. “Come, Dolt. Let us go see your friend who is old. Perhaps he can tell us of the dark times that are coming.”

Celyn glanced up at the sky. It was nearing the end of a bright, beautiful early winter’s day, but the Rider was right.

Dark times were coming.

Chapter Sixteen

Dagmar Reinholdt studied the parchment handed to her by her assistant Mabsant before signing it with a flourish and affixing her seal.

Many years ago, Annwyl had given Dagmar the power to sign for her just as Dagmar’s father had. Except Annwyl had appeared much more relieved to be handing over the tedious day-to-day business to her sister-by-mating. Dagmar’s father had handed over the power, but he had done so very grudgingly.

Yet even though Dagmar now had immense power, she never allowed herself to entertain the possibility of abusing it. For two very good reasons. The first, which was new to her, was the intense feeling that to abuse such power would be wrong. Usually, Dagmar didn’t bother herself with right and wrong. She left that to men who received their power simply by being born with a penis. Everyone else had to fight for what was theirs.