Chapter Twenty

Grief slammed Ketera like a fist to the midsection. She tried to suck in a breath but couldn’t. Dane’s arm came around her waist and she sagged against him as her mind went blank. Drakus stepped forward and for a few moments everything slowed. She couldn’t form a single coherent thought.

“My sincere condolences, my lady,” Drakus said.

“Sprite.” Dane’s voice was soft with caring, softer than she’d ever heard him speak.

Ketera looked up at him, but the words wouldn’t come. Nothing seemed to work as she absorbed the staggering sorrow. She’d known her father’s death was a possibility and had wanted to do everything she could to help him.

She’d failed. Miserably.

And Drakus had as much to do with that as anything else. She stepped from under Dane’s arm and slapped Drakus’ face with a resounding crack.

No one moved.

Drakus’ eyes blazed red for a few moments. “I am grieved that you believe that was necessary.”

Tears surged into her eyes. Even with Dane’s help, she should have realized she couldn’t help her father without the sacred texts. Even with them, the scribes and Truth and Order Police would have declared them blasphemous. Her father was condemned no matter what. She just didn’t want to believe it.

Shaking, she wondered if she’d just sealed her death warrant slapping Drakus. To her amazement, Drakus’ eyes returned to normal and softened. “Your situation is an unfortunate result of war, my lady.”

“That is dragon dung and you know it.”

“Ketera.” Dane’s voice held a warning.

“I won’t stand by any longer and keep my thoughts to myself. You are a piece of filth, Drakus, no matter how wonderfully you dress it up. You’re a madman.”

Drakus laughed, throwing his head back. “My brother, you have a very brave woman. I admire that.”

Trembling all over, she stifled her tears and grief and shoved them to the back of her mind with extreme effort. “My apologies, Drakus. I was carried away with grief.”

She did not mean a word of it.

Dane reached for her and turned her into his chest, and for a few moments she took what comfort she could from his arms wrapped around her, her face pressed into his chest. She wanted to scream, cry and hit Drakus. She knew better. Shoring up her defenses, she leaned into Dane’s strength and strangled her tears. She wouldn’t show more weakness to Drakus.

She eased from Dane’s embrace and stood on her own, glaring at the rogue leader.

“Let’s get on with it,” Dane said. “I have a proposal for you, Drakus. One that will put this idiocy to an end. I will fight you for Ketera. If I lose, you have to promise you’ll send her back to Magonia unharmed. If I win, you will cease your hostilities toward Grimnald Castle and all peace-loving people in Dragonia. You will also give up your war against Magonia.”

Drakus smirked and put his hands on his hips. “A unique proposition. It doesn’t follow with my plans.”

“Take it and keep what honor you have left. If you kill me, you will be done with me. Ketera will be safe, and you’ll show your compassion to the people. Forcing me to join you is impossible. I won’t do it. Even if you kill me and keep Ketera, I know her well. She will make your life a hell. She doesn’t give in easily.”

Ketera found a wedge of humor in his statement, something she didn’t think she could. “He’s right. Take his challenge.”

She didn’t want Dane to fight Drakus to the death. She didn’t want any of this to happen, but what choice did she have? A sense of fate and inevitability came over. Whatever happened, she’d experienced the most glorious love she could have wished for in a lifetime. That was all that mattered.

Drakus remained silent, apparently considering his options.

When his answer came, it surprised her. “Very well.” Drakus eyes reddened, as if the challenge intrigued him more than anything he’d planned previously. “I accept the challenge with one stipulation.”

“Get on with it then,” Dane said, his voice filled with harsh edge.

“Ketera will be tied up at the altar, waiting for the dragon. If you try anything unusual, she will die by the dragon.”

Dane’s gaze turned to hers and they locked eyes. She saw inevitability lying inside his eyes, a deep love that burned for the ages. “Ketera…”

“Yes.” That was all she needed to say.

She saw him swallow hard and return his attention to his half brother. Standing fairly near to each other, the men appeared more like each other than before. Their bearing showed strength and perhaps even Drakus possessed honor. Time would tell all.

“Very well.” Dane’s voice rang out. “It will be done.”

Drakus’ smile conveyed cleverness as if he knew something they did not. It made her stomach turn. “Guards, take her to the dragon altar.”

“Wait!” She held her hand up. “Can I have five minutes with Dane?”

Drakus nodded. “So be it.” He gestured for the guards to leave with him.

After they’d departed, Dane snatched Ketera into his arms and buried his hand in hair. They kissed savagely, and she felt it down to her very bones, in her blood and across her skin. She threw her arms around his neck as he dragged her close, banding her to him. She tingled, her womb actually contracting with the deepest need to take him within her. But there was no time. No time.

His tongue tasted hers until they broke from the kiss. They breathed raggedly, and tears filled her eyes. She whispered her words. “You must come back to me.”

He kissed her again, softly this time, a smile on his mouth. His eyes shimmered with moisture. “Always.”

“I love you, Dane.”

His voice was a horse whisper. “I love you.”

The tent flap opened and the guards returned. As Dane released her, the men escorted her from the tent, and she thought her heart might shatter into tiny pieces.

* * * * *

Dane’s heart slammed in his chest like a massive drum as he stood in the center of the small arena in camp. Arena didn’t accurately describe the dirt ground cleared of jungle flora. Over fifty Daryk Ones who’d been willing to betray their country stood around the ring and watched him. He’d been marched in after being offered food and drink. The hospitality surprised him, and he’d taken some food and water to store up his reserves. When the Daryk Ones had urged him to enter the ring, their voices were strong and insistent but showed no particular disrespect. All of this amazed him, but he reminded himself the dozens of men surrounding him didn’t intend for him to escape this situation in one piece.

The day was unusually cool for the jungle and clouds already gathered on the horizon, another strange situation for morning. Still, anything could happen in the Tarrian region. Dane’s mind stayed firmly on Ketera, his fear for her far outweighing any concern he harbored about fighting his brother.

A rumbling and roaring vibrated through the thick foliage, and he recognized the sound of an approaching dragon. The beast would be here soon, from the sound of it. Its thunderous footsteps echoed, throbbing in the ground. What were they doing bringing it here now?

A black dragon appeared, this one smaller than the one Drakus had used to attack the castle but one of the nasty fire-breathing types that made it more dangerous to handle. The animal’s furious growls were throaty and rumbling. Dane wanted to engage the dragon because he knew why Drakus brought it into view.

The bastard wanted to use Ketera as leverage.

It worked.

Swallowing convulsively, Dane reached for his sword and drew it from his scabbard. The blade gleamed like the moons that rose full every night, their gray hue shining and clear. Unexpected emotions rushed like a river inside him, fear foremost among them. Ketera depended on him, and he couldn’t fail her.

Before he could dwell on it, two Daryk Ones brought Ketera to the edge of the jungle. His gaze snagged on her and stayed.

Run. Run. Run.

If she did, they’d catch her and bring her back, or at the least the dragon would. Though he knew Ketera wasn’t defenseless, she could only fight so much against a creature that large.

Draconus help her. Give her power and strength.

He’d never prayed to the god before in earnest, but now he did, hoping if there were a deity, that he would listen. Dane drew in a deep breath as he waited to see what happened next. The Daryk Ones surrounding Ketera took her arms and brought her to a wooden stake. They pushed her up against it, their movements not violent but no-nonsense. They drew her arms up and tied them to ropes that drew her arms up over her head. She hung there, her feet holding her up. Dane almost stepped forward, his anger as hot as the lightning that suddenly streaked across the sky.

A huge roar came from the sky. Thunderheads broke over the jungle, rising faster than he’d ever seen a storm develop. It was if the storms came by the will of Draconus, the god’s anger consuming and ready to drown them all. Dane knew that was shite, but the clouds turned purple and black, and the wind picked up. Black? He’d never seen black clouds form over the jungle. The ocean perhaps.

As Ketera hung from the trees and waited for her fate, she didn’t scream, but Dane wanted to. Oh yes. He wanted to yell, to cry for her to be released. It wouldn’t do him any good and he knew it. The Daryk Ones kept the dragon quite a distance from Ketera, and Dane was thankful. The threat was there, however, and he couldn’t ignore it. The men around him didn’t laugh or jeer or talk. He’d expected the rogues to act out their hostility, but he realized something important. The men didn’t see their revolution and a possible civil war as a reason to pillage and rape. They saw it as serious business with consequences. Only their leader didn’t buy into the philosophy, and that made his ideals and his pretensions all the more dangerous.

From the bank of tents, Drakus emerged. Dane gripped his sword hilt, ready for a fight, uncertain how or when danger would strike. Drakus walked into the makeshift arena, a sword gripped in his left hand. A fight against a left-handed man would be different, but Dane knew what to do. Training kicked in, and as Drakus walked toward him, Dane braced for whatever might come. Drakus stopped several feet away from Dane. Dane took in his half brother’s attire. The man wore an undecorated, plain black breastplate, a sleeveless tunic that ended at the knees. Unlike Dane, who wore trousers, Drakus’ legs were bare past the knee except for boots that covered up to his ankles. He didn’t wear a helmet as Daryk Ones often did, nor did he offer Dane head protection. The proof would come if the fight turned deadly. Dane didn’t know if it would—he couldn’t allow Drakus to live and save Ketera’s life.

Drakus held up his left fist, sword pointed to the stormy sky, stretching his hand high over his head. “Dane is an honored guest in this camp and his lovely mate,” he gestured to Ketera, “awaits her fate.”

The men cheered, and Dane’s blood ran as icy as a glacier in Imekland. He waited as Drakus made a cutting motion across his own throat, and the men stopped screaming and hooting, their arms high in the sky.

Drakus turned around, sword still in hand, addressing all the men. “The dragon is here to taste her blood if I so chose. If Dane should win our fight, he will not be harmed and Ketera shall not be sacrificed to the dragon.” Drakus’ eyes started to turn red as he moved around the ring, addressing the men it seemed almost one by one. “If I should win I could still sacrifice her. If not, I will take her to my bed and impregnate her as my concubine. She will bring us many children and prove once and for all that our few pregnant Magonian women are not a fluke.” He smiled in triumph. “We may be rogues, but we will prove that we’re right. Magonia will be ours, their land ours and their women ours.”

He shoved his arm upward, pointing his sword to the sky once more. The crowd cheered. Flasks filled with spirits started around the crowd. Good. If the rogue Daryk Ones became inebriated, that could prove good in one way. Or bad in another. They could become violent. Or they could become reckless and make mistakes. He hoped it was the later.

Dane’s breathing quickened, energy from the crowd adding fire to his blood. He no longer cared about maintaining civilization in the face of death. Nothing would stop him from winning this fight. He would save his woman. He would.

When the crowd stopped crowing and celebrating, Drakus turned to face Dane. “Shall we begin?”

Dane nodded and braced his body.

Drakus attacked.

* * * * *

Ketera’s body shuddered with fear as she watched Drakus hurl toward Dane. From her vantage point on an incline above the fracas, she saw the men come together in a furious tangle. Jungle pressed in on all sides around the small plateau. Her heart drummed in her ears as dragon breath puffed and a throaty roar issued with ear-splitting intensity. Thunder rumbled as inky clouds continued to pile high above the canopy. Small droplets of rain pattered on her head. She twisted in the ropes securing her wrists to opposite poles. Her feet supported her but just barely. Physical discomfort paled when she couldn’t take her gaze away from the fight below. Even the dragon’s loud huffing didn’t distract her as several Daryk Ones restrained the creature.

Dane met Drakus’ surge as their swords clanged. Sweat gleamed on their arms and legs as they moved with deftness and skill. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she tried to suck in one breath and then the other. Fear for Dane settled low in her stomach as if she’d swallowed a rock. Hard terror touched her at the thought of the dragon so close. God, it stank. She trembled.

Bravery. She must be brave.

Swords clashed with a loud ring as Dane and Drakus brought metal together time after time. Rain started to spatter on her body with large drops, wetting her hair and face and slapping her body. An unusually cold wind followed, flattening her tunic and pants to her skin. She shivered.

The rogue leader circled Dane, his movements practiced and as skillful as a beast on the hunt. She held her breath as Dane kept his gaze on his opponent. With a rush the men came together. The crowd roared at the same time lightning sent a jagged bolt across the sky. The men brought their swords together in a furious play of movements that moved so quickly she couldn’t keep up. The crowd’s appreciation drowned any sounds of exertion. The opponents backed away for a moment then plunged forward with brutal movements that expended all they had. Rain poured down their bodies as the storm lashed the jungle with unremitting fury. It was almost as if the storm knew the fight’s importance. A war could be settled before it started. From here she could hear their labored breaths, see their expressions. Dane was determined, and with everything inside her she willed him to stay safe and fight hard.

Oh god Magon. Keep him alive. Keep him safe. I love him.

Dane lunged with a move so quick and furious she almost missed it. A growl issued from his throat as his blade slashed Drakus’ rib cage. Drakus cried out, the sound engorged with pain. Drakus fell to his knees and clutched his side.

Dane could take his head now with one blow.

She held her breath.

Suddenly, out of the bush, dozens of voices rang from all sides, their cries angry and ready for war. Dane hesitated and the Daryk Ones surrounding the fight turned, looked and readied their stance for attack. Their leader down, they had no order.

Then she saw a familiar figure hurling from the jungle in front of the attackers.

Her breath caught. “Minilos.”

The older man threw himself into the fray.

To her right the dragon roared and turned toward her.

Her heart seemed to stop. Time stopped.

“Dane, I love you.”