Magic Triumphs (Kate Daniels 10)

He was young, maybe twenty, with clear blue eyes like two chips of winter ice, a line of tattoos running down one side of his pale face, and long blond hair pulled back with a leather cord. The chain in his hand was attached to a locket with a gemstone the size of a walnut that looked like pure red fire caught under glass.

“My lord extends an invitation,” he said, his English stilted. “Come with me, and he will show you the might of his realm.”

If my father had lied to me and I went into Neig’s realm, I could be trapped there forever, or dead.

Behind me Curran walked onto the street. I didn’t have to turn to know that by now he was sprinting. If he got here, he would talk me out of it. We needed to know how many troops Neig had. Without it, we were blind.

“Kate!” Curran barked.

My father wouldn’t want me to be stuck in Neig’s realm, at the dragon’s beck and call. He and I had our problems, but he hated Neig. There was too much rage in his eyes when he talked about the dragon. He wouldn’t lie to me, not about this.

Curran was almost to me.

“Trust me,” I called out. “I’ve got this.”

I would catch hell for this later. I dissolved the ward and held out my left hand. “Lead the way.”

The warrior took my fingers in his, pressing the stone against my hand.

Curran was almost to us. He jumped, covering the last twenty feet.

The world turned white and then my stomach tried to go one way while most of me went the other. The white light faded. My body clenched. I spun around and vomited onto the rocky ground. Awesome entrance. So regal and impressive.

I straightened. We stood on a stone bridge spanning a deep gorge. In front of us a castle rose. Built with dark stone, it didn’t have the elaborate spires and ornamental work of Victorian English palaces or German gingerbread castles. No, this was an Anglo-Norman square stone keep, with thick walls and a forest of massive towers scratching at the sky. To the left, a mountain ridge curved down and away into the mists. To the right, a deep wide valley stretched, bordered at the horizon by more mountains. Far in the distance, at the foot of that other mountain ridge, a lake caught the sun and glistened. The air smelled like pines. A cold draft slid against my skin and I shivered.

In his realm, you are a ghost . . . Well, this ghost should’ve brought a sweater.

“This way,” the warrior told me.

I sheathed Sarrat. We walked down the stone bridge to the massive gates. I couldn’t see the sun, but the sky was light.

“How long have you served Neig?” I asked.

“Forever.”

“What about your family? Did you leave anyone behind?”

No answer.

“Do you remember where you used to live? Was it here in Georgia? Was it in Ireland?”

No answer.

We reached the gates.

“Are you sure you don’t remember your family? You must’ve come from somewhere. What was your mother’s name?”

No answer.

The gates swung open and we walked into the courtyard. A second pair of gates creaked open at our approach. The soldier halted and pointed at the gateway. I was meant to keep going on my own.

I marched through the doors and into a throne room, lit by glass globes dripping from the walls. The floor glistered. At first glance it looked like glass, but no, it was gold. Melted down and allowed to cool into a perfectly smooth surface that gleamed with a mirror sheen. A man-made stream wound its way through the floor in a gentle curve, only a couple of inches deep. Gems lined the creek bed, gleaming in the water: red rubies, green emeralds, blue sapphires, purple amethysts, light-green peridots . . . A fortune in precious jewels, cast there like sea glass at the bottom of a fish tank.

A throne dominated the far wall, carved from the bones of some enormous creature into the shape of a dragon in profile. A red gem the size of a grapefruit sat in the dragon’s eye socket. It felt warm and suffused with magic, as if it were somehow alive. I brushed it with my magic and it sparked off my power. Wow. It was condensed magic, so potent it felt like a tiny sun.

The anchor. The arrogant bastard had his anchor right there, just past his front door.

Neig waited for me on the throne, dressed in full regalia, his fur cape draped over his armor, the golden torque bright. To his left, a long table offered a feast. Roasted meat, golden bread, fruit, wine. The aroma made my mouth water.

“Should’ve colored the water in your stream red,” I told him.

“A river of blood?” he said. His voice enveloped me, deep and vibrating with power.

“It would be more honest.”

“But you wouldn’t be able to see the beauty of the jewels.” He indicated the table with a sweep of his hand. “Please. Sate your hunger.”

Nice try. I did my Erra sneer. “Really?”

Neig smiled, betraying a hint of sharp teeth. The table vanished. Okay then.

He stepped off the throne and approached me. I’d clocked him at about six-six, six-seven before. I was off by about half a foot. He towered over me.

“I wish to give you a tour of my domain.”

“Oh goody.”

We strolled out of the throne room into a hallway of enormous arched windows.

“Are you a man or a dragon?” I asked him.

“I’m both.”

“But what were you born as?”

“It was a long time ago. I do not remember. Some of us were born with talons, others with hands, but we are all Dragon.”

“What are Dragon?”

“An ancient race. We were here when humans crawled out of the mud. We watched you try to walk upright and bang rocks against each other, trying to make claws and teeth.”

Yeah, right. “You’re not that old.”

He grinned again. Tiny streaks of smoke escaped his mouth. Awesome. If I got too cold, I could ask him to breathe on me.

“Why do you want to conquer?” I asked.

“Why would I not?”

“You brought me here to convince me to join you. So far, you’re doing a terrible job of it.”

“You’re an interesting creature, Daughter of Nimrod.”

“The name is Kate Lennart. I’m not defined by being my father’s daughter.”

“But you’re defined by your husband’s name.”

“I chose that name. I decided I wanted it.”

His thick eyebrows came together.

“If you’re not going to answer any questions, this will be a very one-sided conversation,” I told him.

“Very well. I will answer your question. I want to conquer because it pleases me. I like to rule, I like to own, and I like to be acknowledged as the supreme power.”

“Your conquest will cost hundreds of thousands of lives. Millions.”

“Human lives.”

“Yes.”

“There are always more humans,” he said. “There is never a shortage.”

We passed from the hallway into a massive room. Shelves lined the fifty-foot walls. Books filled the shelves, thousands and thousands of books: some bound in leather, some hidden in scroll tubes, papyrus, clay tablets, Chinese bamboo books, long strips of animal hide sheltered by wooden covers . . . Above it all, a skylight spilled a stream of sunlight into the middle of the room, never touching the precious volumes. My father would kill himself out of jealousy.

“Have you read any of these?”

“Yes.”

“Were they written by humans?”

“Most of them.”

“Then you saw into their minds. You know that each human is unique. Once you kill one, there will never be another one exactly like it.”

Neig stepped to the shelf and pulled out a heavy tome, bound in leather and inlaid with gold. The writing on the cover resembled Ashuri script, but the ancient Hebrews wrote on scrolls, not in bound books. Neig stepped to the window. It swung open in front of him and he tossed the book outside.

“Wait!” I lunged for the window and saw the book plunge down and disappear into mists somewhere far below.

“Fifty humans wrote that book,” Neig said, and indicated the library with a sweep of his hand. “Is my collection any less magnificent?”

I sighed.

“Why do you care?” he asked. “You are more powerful than them. You are faster, stronger, better in every way. I watched you kill. You enjoy it.”