Not just fire. Rocks. Lava. And some kind of stinging larvae.
Brogan made a sound of supreme disgust. “What part of don’t look up did you not understand, dragon!”
“The part that it’s a dragon’s nature to do what we’re told not to!”
Blaise cursed and swatted at the bugs. “What are these things?”
“Bloodvlox. Don’t let them break your skin or they can infect you and take you over. If they land near your ears, they can crawl inside and ingest your brains! And keep them away from your eyes, too.”
Medea hissed and slapped at one that was trying to burrow under her skin. “How do we get rid of them?”
“Fleabane, but I don’t have any on me and can’t conjure any until we get away from the orms.” Brogan swatted at them. “I’ll boost your powers so that you can teleport to the caves over there. It should be enough to get you to safety. But you’ll have to do it fast, before they catch on and you lose the ability again.”
Growling at the thought of blindly trusting her, Falcyn glanced around and decided there was no other out. “All right. On three, we teleport to just in front of the caves.” And if she was lying or betrayed them, he’d eat her whole. “Ready?”
“Ready!” they said in unison.
Falcyn counted down.
On one they went, but just as he started to follow, an orm grabbed his leg. He turned on the creature and caught it with his claw, wishing he could give it what it really deserved.
His dragon’s venom.
He stomped and kicked until he broke free, then he teleported, making sure he didn’t take any stray beast with him, since that could cause its DNA to merge with his—something he definitely didn’t want to happen. He was damaged enough. His luck, he’d sprout another arm or head.
Or another piece of anatomy he didn’t want to think about duplicating, because one was enough to get him into all manner of trouble. It definitely didn’t need a twin.
Especially not around Medea.
By the time he made the cave and retook a solid form, the howling had picked up volume and the fleas were stinging even more as they swarmed him the moment he was solid again. Blaise whipped at them with his shirt while Medea jerked Falcyn inside by the arm.
Urian used his powers to seal them in the cave.
Teamwork …
He shuddered. It gave him the willies. He’d never really bought into that. Dragons were solitary creatures, and while he’d fought with his brothers a handful of times, it wasn’t enough that it left him comfortable with such things. And definitely not when surrounded by this many strangers.
“Can the orms find us in here?” Falcyn asked while Blaise pulled his shirt back on.
Brogan shook her head. “But there are others who can. The forges are all in places similar to this … as are their homes. It’s why the orms avoid them when they’re free.”
“Awesome,” Urian breathed. “Are the portals here, too?”
“Not close by. That would be too easy.”
Of course it would.
Urian growled. “You think if I called for Acheron he might hear me and come to the rescue?”
“You can try.” Falcyn waited.
After a few seconds, Urian growled again. “It was worth a shot.”
“Anyone know a dark elf?” Falcyn glanced to Blaise, who made it his habit to party with them.
“None that I want to call. Thank you very much. Want to knock up Narishka?”
Falcyn glared at him. “I knocked up her sister. It’s what got us into this, remember?”
“Ha, ha, ha, American slang. You suck so much,” Blaise whimpered.
“Yeah, well, not real big on your slang either, Yobo.”
Blaise shook his head irritably. “Bloody Yank.”
Falcyn lit the cave with his fireballs. “Too bad we don’t have Cadegan here. A dark hole like this is right up his alley.”
“Illarion’s, too,” Urian reminded him.
Falcyn nodded. He was right about that. They’d both lived in drab caves for centuries.
Medea gave him an arch stare. “I would have thought you were at home here, too.”
He grimaced at the ex-Daimon. “Stop with the stereotypes. Not all dragons hibernate in closed quarters. I lived on an island, on top of ruins. In the open and quite happy not to be penned in. My brother Max lives in a bar.”
“Aye to that,” Blaise chimed in. “My home was a castle in Camelot. Usually under the Pendragon’s feet, but we won’t talk about that, as it’s just a dismal memory. Retrospect, don’t know why I brought it up.”
Brogan cocked her head. “Most of the dragons here are cave-dwellers. They fire our forges. The rest hide so as not to be enslaved.”
“How many reside here?”
She scowled at Blaise’s question. “A few dozen that I know of. Not counting the orms. They were bred once the dragon numbers began to thin.”
“Makes sense.” Falcyn passed a sad look at Blaise. “We don’t do well in captivity.”
“Is that why you’re blind?” Brogan asked.
“No. My father blinded me, hoping I’d die in the wild when I was a babe.… At least that’s what I was told.”
Brogan paled. “Pardon? Why would he do such a terrible thing to his own child?”
“My mother had me to be a tool to control my father, but when he rejected me because of my albinism, my mother abandoned me to him and he took me out into the woods and left me there to die. I was to be an offering to the gods. Luckily, they rejected me, too.”
With every word he spoke, fury rode hard on Falcyn, and he crossed the room to Blaise’s side. His features turning dark and deadly, Falcyn fisted his hand in Blaise’s hair and jerked him close. “You were never rejected by me. Never!”
Raw sadness hovered in his sightless eyes. “I know.”
With a gruff growl, Falcyn released him and stepped back.
Medea felt a strange lump in her throat as she saw the moisture Falcyn blinked away from his eyes and the way Blaise licked his lips and cleared his throat as if biting back his own round of tears. That was love in its purest, gruffest masculine form.
Now she knew why Falcyn protected him so zealously.
And that thought brought a wave of strong emotion surging through her that she couldn’t quite identify. But it was definitely tender and overwhelming.
There was a lot more to this dragon than just the beast he let the world see.
And Brogan saw it, too.
Clearing her own throat, Brogan motioned toward the backside of the cave. “There should be a tunnel that leads toward the underground channels where we might be able to find a path to the porch.”
“The porch?” Medea didn’t understand the word, but the way the woman said it she felt as if she should.
“Aye. It’s the plateau where the elders meet to watch the other realms. There’s a portal there.”
“Why do they do that?”
Brogan scoffed at her question. “In case you haven’t noticed, my lady, there’s not a lot to do here, other than survive and make weaponry for the gods and fey beings. So the elder wyrdlings look out, pick a happy mortal, and ruin their lives. For fun and wagering.”
Medea gaped. “You’re serious?”
Her features grim, Brogan nodded. “They call it the yewing. The mortal is randomly selected and his or her fate is up to whatever lot they draw from their skytel bag while they’re watching them. They think it entertaining.”
“I knew it!” Blaise growled. “I knew my life was nothing but a sick joke to the fey. And all of you said I crazy.” When no one commented he drew up sullenly. “Well, you did. And I was right.”
Falcyn snorted. “Anyway, let’s find this porch and see if we can locate the portal back home. Or at least to Avalon or Camelot. From there, we can return. For that matter, I’d take Vanaheim or Asgard.”
“You could travel from there?” Medea asked in an impressed tone.
“I have friends in low places.”
“Those aren’t low places,” Brogan admonished.
“That depends on your point of view.” Falcyn winked at her. “From where I stand, they’re in the gutter.”