Read Lucan: The Pendragon Legacy Online
Authors: Susan Kearney
Lucan: The Pendragon Legacy (4 page)
“I’m no closer to translating the glyphs than when we uncovered them yesterday afternoon.”
Despite years of study in ancient runes and hieroglyphics, he hadn’t been able to make any sense of the connection between his map and ancient Avalon.
“You might want to give yourself more than a day to solve one of our moon’s ancient puzzles.” With an encouraging raise of her brow, she moved aside several of his books, and together they finished mopping up the spilled tea. When their hands accidentally touched, his flesh tingled in response. Her violet gaze jerked toward his in surprise. “You’re driving yourself too hard.”
That was so not his problem. The only thing too hard around here, suddenly, was his dick.
Damn it. Not now. He needed to play this cool. He bristled, then tried to hide his reaction. But a telltale flicker in her eyes told him she’d noted his irritation.
The lady was perceptive. Too perceptive? He raked back his hair to give him time to cool his jets. The last thing he needed was her ordering him to come in for a checkup. “I’m sure I look like hell. But a shower and a shave should—”
Cael placed her hand on his shoulder. “Relax.” What was she up to? She seemed to be deliberately touching him now, and it occurred to him that she was scanning him with her empathic ability.
He prayed to God she couldn’t read his mind, then forced himself to relax. She read feelings, not thoughts. For now, his real identity was still safe. And if she was picking up any of his lusty yearnings, she was pretending otherwise.
Cael knelt, scooped the rest of his books from the floor, and placed them back on his desk. “I won’t send you to the medical bay—”
“Thanks.”
“If you promise to sleep for a few hours—”
“Agreed.”
“In your bed. Not at your desk.” She smiled, perhaps to take the sting out of her words.
He cocked his n yourberhead to one side and shot her his most charming grin. “You want to come tuck me in?”
Damn it. He’d been keeping the conversation on a professional level, and then he’d blown it again. He kept forgetting Cael was not just a colleague. No Dragonian he knew would venture such an innuendo with the High Priestess, even in jest. But then, he doubted any other man had shared an air duct with her, either.
When she placed her hands on her hips and frowned, he thought she was offended. Then the corner of her mouth quirked to form a saucy grin. “Will that be necessary? My tucking you in?”
Necessary?
No.
Pleasurable?
Oh, yeah.
He envisioned her leaning over him, her eyes widening as he tugged her into his arms for a kiss.
Stop.
He had to stop fantasizing. Stop looking at her.
He cast his eyes down to his desk. “Maybe if I hit the sack, the answer will come to me in my dreams.” Fat chance. He was going to toss and turn. And think about her.
“I’m glad you’re optimistic. It’s terrible to think these glyphs might be our last chance…”
She looked worried, and not asking what was on her mind took all his willpower.
He cleared his throat and put the remaining items on his desk to rights, willing her to step away so the rainy scent of her hair didn’t flood his lungs, so the light in her eyes didn’t dazzle, so her lips weren’t close enough to tempt him.
Too much was at stake to think about anything but his mission. He must have been more tired than he’d realized. But exhaustion was no excuse. What the hell was wrong with him? And what was wrong with
her?
He might have admired her long, long legs and flowing blond mane since he’d arrived at the lab, but she’d never shown him more than a passing glance.
When she spoke, Cael’s voice was low and silvery, threaded with sorrow. “You know, finding the Grail means… everything… to me, too.”
Looking away, perhaps deliberately avoiding his gaze, she fingered her necklace beneath her tunic’s collar. “My nephew… is sick. He’s”—her voice broke—“only five.”
The hint of desperation in her voice revealed a deep, black agony. One he knew all too well. “You can’t heal him?”
She shook her head, her fingers rubbing the necklace. “I shouldn’t have said anything. The last thing you need is more pressure. I’m sorry.”
Lucan nodded in understanding. “My sister’s unable to have a child. All her life she’s wanted to be a mother, and her dream was ripped away. I’d hoped the Grail…”
Marisa’s doctors had eventually declared her barren after the last miscarriage, and watching her be torn apart by grief was almost more than Lucan could handle. More and more people on Earth were being given the same diagnosis. Infertility was reaching epidemic proportions. Without a miracle, people on Earth faced extinction.
That’s why the Vesta Corporation had funded his mission. That’szthe Grai P why Lucan had crossed a galaxy to achieve his goal. Always in secret. Always alone. Always hiding his real past from everyone around him.
Cael touched Lucan’s arm, infusing him with an awareness he was certain could be his undoing. “Then you understand,” she whispered.
Reluctantly he pulled away from her touch. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Legends are born when life soars into the heavens or falls to the earth.
—M
ERLIN
A
fter only a couple of hours of fitful sleep, Lucan was back at his desk in the lab, staring at the glyphs, praying for a breakthrough, and trying without success to ignore Cael, who worked several desks away. Only a few other members of the Avalon Project team manned their stations at this early hour.
“We’ve accomplished nothing!” Sir Quentin, the team’s head archeologist, burst through the door and headed toward Sir Shaw’s desk at the front of the lab.
“That’s not true,” Sir Shaw countered. An esteemed professor who was currently on sabbatical, Shaw was lending his expertise to the Avalon Project as the fieldwork supervisor.
Lucan couldn’t recall the last time the two leaders had agreed on anything. Perhaps Sir Shaw believed the unverified reports that the Division of Lost Artifacts was a secret arm of the military under direct control of Sir Quentin and General Brennon. Perhaps it was simply a difference in basic scientific theory. Either way, the hypothesis that arguments spurred new ideas wasn’t working at Avalon. Lucan couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take for them to come to blows. If events led to a brawl, he’d bet on Shaw. Although older, shorter, and heavier, his passion came from the heart, whereas Quentin was a by-the-numbers kind of guy.
Glancing across the lab at Cael, Lucan checked her reaction. To her credit, she did a damn fine job of hiding her annoyance, but the slight narrowing of her eyes and tightening of her mouth gave her away. Apparently, she, too, preferred to work in peace.
Other scientists had begun to file into the lab and head to their work stations. Men and women alike tripped over themselves to stay out of Cael’s way, and he spotted a flicker in her eyes. Irritation? Pain?
Sir Quentin brandished his clipboard. “I have nothing to report to my superiors.”
“You’re worried about the government response, or General Brennon and his Lost Artifacts Division?”
Never before had Lucan heard Shaw openly accuse the other scientist of a secret military connection. For a moment, even Cael looked shocked before she quickly masked her expression.
Quentin waved his clipboard in Shaw’s face. “How dare you question my loyalty?”
Shaw slapped the clipboard away and its papers fluttered to the floor. “We’ve made progress of sorts. We’ve learned what doesn’t work.”
Lucan’s gaze returned to Cael. She’d stooped to pick up the scattered forms. The task might have been beneath her, but she moved with such an effortless grace that Shaw and Quentin didn’t notice her.
Lucan found himself holding his breath, sensing that Cael appeared to be waiting for the right moment to intervene. Despite himself, Lucan edged closer. If Shaw and Quentin came to blows and she stepped into the fray, she was the one who’d need protection.
Quentin slammed his fist onto the nearest lab table. “With the sinkhole expanding, it’s time to take more drastic measures.”
“Not yet.” Shaw shook his head. “The shield’s technology alone is priceless. If you rush, you risk destroying it. And if the military’s Division of Lost Artifacts takes over, they’ll get inside first.”
“The military has no intention—”
“Don’t kid yourself. They want the Grail as much as the government does,” Shaw insisted. “But scientists need to control the contents.”
“We all need the technology and the profits it can produce.”
Cael set the papers on the lab table and placed herself between the arguing men.
“This isn’t about profit,” Shaw raged. “Whatever we find inside Avalon is our heritage. These gifts from the past must not be sold, but should be
given
to everyone to share.” Shaw took a breath and visibly tried to calm himself. “If we can duplicate the shield and use it to protect our buildings from pollution, we could improve productivity. Maybe create domes over our cities, so we can once again breathe clean air.”
Quentin’s voice turned icy. His meaty hands closed into fists. “You’re dreaming. Naive. Foolish.”
Lucan tensed. He used every measure of control to stop himself from interfering.
“I’m in charge of the dig,” Shaw insisted. “I’ll decide—”
“Sirs,” Cael interrupted without raising her voice, but immediately the air stilled, and as she spoke, her words seemed to drain the tension from the lab. “I suggest we table this discussion for another time. We have yet to figure out
how
to get inside Avalon. Please, everyone, take your seats.”
She was simply amazing. They all listened and obeyed. Shaw looked a bit sheepish. Quentin’s eyes flared with fire he was too angry to hide. The rest of the team settled in seats behind their desks and computer banks. Again Lucan saw tinges of fear in the team’s faces, as they waited to see what Cael would do next.
Shaw faced his team. “Our situation has become critical. We have only one week until we must turn over the facility to General Brennon and his Lost Artifacts Division.” He glared at Quentin. “I also have no wish to see the military take over. Soldiers have no respect for scientific research or preserving artifacts. I can’t imagine what the politicians were thinki U [ height=ng, turning over Avalon to the military’s control.”
Lucan wondered if Quentin and Cael would stay to help the military. With tensions high over the Grail’s potential powers and who would control them, the Dragonians had excavated Avalon in a series of stops and starts for centuries, barely avoiding a civil war in the process.
“Perhaps you can negotiate more time for us?” Shaw asked Cael.
She shook her head, her hair swirling around her shoulders, her voice musical but firm. “Satellite data support Brennon’s claim that the underground cavity is growing. Time is running out.”
Shaw grimaced. “Then I suppose we shall have to move on, as Sir Quentin suggested, to more drastic measures.”
Finally. At last some action.
Lucan looked across the room at Rion, an astrophysicist with a reputation for innovation and a man whom he would have liked to call friend. Rion had seemed certain their latest efforts were about to pay off, and he had an uncanny reputation for knowing how matters would turn out. Some chalked up his ability to luck, others to clairvoyance. Rion himself was mum on the subject. The two men exchanged a look, and Lucan nodded.
Rion cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to him. “We could attack the shield with a high-level laser burst.”
Although laser technology was common on Earth, on Pendragon the device was still theoretical.
“Did you computer-model it?” Shaw asked, immediately interested.
Rion cast a glance at Lucan. “Actually, the prototype was finished yesterday. Seems our linguistics expert has a wicked talent with cutting-edge technology.”
Lucan opened his desk drawer to retrieve the prototype, placed the device on a work counter, and set the control. By building the laser, he’d taken a risk of blowing his cover, but only a small one. Language experts weren’t expected to have the knowledge to build a highly sophisticated laser, but Lucan’s fake résumé claimed that his Dragonian father owned a robotics plant, and Lucan dabbled at inventions.
While the other team members surrounded him, ohhing and ahhing at the laser, Rion and Cael spoke quietly. Lucan found it interesting that Rion didn’t seem to fear Cael as the others did. Taller than Cael by a foot, Rion had to bend down for them to put their heads together. Her blond hair contrasted against Rion’s darkness, reminding Lucan of when he’d freed her from the vent. How soft she’d felt against his hardness.
“The beam’s stable?” Shaw asked, leaning over the device.
Lucan moved a rolling display board to reveal a gaping hole in the lab’s wall. “I tested it last night.”
“Are you certain there are no harmful side effects?” Quentin asked.
Lucan shrugged. “Ninety percent certain.”
Shaw nodded. “With the military breathing down our necks, that’s good enough odds for me. Let’s try ipert h _ Yt, people.”
Quentin turned to Lucan. “If the laser works, you’ll have to turn over all rights to the device, since you constructed it while under government contract.”
“Understood.” Lucan raised his voice. “Everyone don eye protectors.”
Cael moved away from Rion, their conversation over.
Lucan placed safety goggles over his glasses and attached power cords to the laser. The device hummed. “Ready?”
“Go ahead,” Shaw ordered and pointed to Avalon’s shield. “Open the observation port.”
Lucan prayed this would work. Because, short of detonating a nuclear bomb to access Avalon, they were out of options.
“Fire when ready,” Shaw said.
“Initiating a two-second laser burst.” Lucan threw a switch. Pure blue light lanced from the device, through the observation port, and struck the shielding dead center. The clear sparkles of Avalon’s shield flashed a dull orange.
Someone cheered, but the reaction was premature and died on a hollow note.
One orange blink in the shield was all the laser had achieved. As if in defiance, the shield returned to its normal clear, multi-sparkled hue.
Lucan tensed, waiting for Shaw’s orders, willing the man to increase the burst.
“Hit it with a longer burst,” Shaw ordered, impatient now that he’d made the decision to blast away.
“Upping the burn to four seconds.” Lucan made the adjustment and fired. And held his breath. This time the shield absorbed every damn atom of energy he threw at it. Almost as if, after the initial laser burst, the shield had self-corrected.
Was the shield’s technology capable of learning? Interesting. Aggravating. He gnashed his teeth with frustration, but he really wanted to smash his fist into a wall. Apparently, Rion had been wrong about the laser’s capability. Strangely, he didn’t look disappointed.
“Close the port,” Shaw ordered, discouragement threaded through his voice.
The team descended on the laser. Arguments ensued regarding how to increase its potency, and the engineers who’d grabbed the specs from Lucan’s desk began to theorize on different angles they should try to penetrate the shield. In the mad chaos, Lucan made eye contact with Cael. She sent him a sorry-it-didn’t-work look, hesitated, then approached him.
With the team still speculating on the new tool, no one noticed as he stepped back from his desk to meet her. “You’re disappointed,” he said. “I really thought the laser—”
“We’re all disappointed,” she corrected. Her smile widened, and the effect made his pulse quicken. “But in science, failure often leads to success. Look how you’ve stimulated them.” She indicated the scientists, who were busy examining the laser and discussing the design. “Have a little faith.”
“Faith?” When it came to Cael, his thoughts were anything but spiritual. Reminding himself that he had to stay neutral and ignore the heat and pull of his attraction, he tore his gaze from her very full, very tempting mouth to look her in her eyes. “I’m a man of science. I know that shield can be breached. I just wish I understood how it works.”
“The Goddess says to choose our wishes with care, because once we attain our wishes, we may not be pleased with the outcome.”
Usually it took a lot more than a pretty smile—okay, a dynamite smile—and an encouraging word to gain his attention. But Cael’s presence packed a feminine punch that rocked him to the core. Once again, he was instantly, insanely, inexplicably hard.
She raised an eyebrow. “What about legends? Do you believe in them?”
Legends?
He’d always been a sucker for a legend. Ever since he’d arrived on Pendragon, he’d been on the lookout for tales of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, but he’d found only place names that teased his imagination.
“Tell me a legend.”
As if sensing his keen interest, Cael perched a hip against the nearest desk and settled in for a conversation. Her unique scent, sweet and crisp, broke through the odor of recycled air. He had the sudden urge to bury his nose in her hair and inhale deeply, but he squelched the instinct.
“Perhaps
legend
is the wrong word. Haven’t you ever heard of the
Book of Jede
?”
“Nope.”
“The
Book of Jede
is a fairy tale.” She laughed, a warm, enticing sound that cascaded over him like a warm shower. “I heard it first from my grandmother when I was about three.”
“I’ve never heard the tale.” He tried to imagine Cael at the age of three. Curly-headed. Tiny. Curious. But he couldn’t do it. The vibrant woman she was now dominated his thoughts.
“You want me to believe in fairy tales?” Lucan grinned.
Cael scooted her cute little backside onto the desk and crossed her exquisite legs. “What kind of childhood did you have?”
“The usual.” He shrugged, keeping his voice down and glancing around the room. Rion was deep in discussion with a biologist. Quentin and Shaw were still arguing, albeit less heatedly. The rest of the team continued to pore over the laser’s schematics. Nevertheless, Lucan still didn’t want to speak about his false past and counterfeit identity.
Cael peered at him, a stare that tried to pierce the soul. He held her gaze, a tad bit longer than he should have. “We need to get back to work.” Now, that was lame. But damned if he could think straight with her drilling him with that I-want-to-know-what-you’re-thinking look.
She ignored his suggestion. Instead she stroked her throat, parting her tunic. He got an eyeful of her graceful neck and a flash of a metal choker with strangely familiar markings before her fingers blocked his view again.
“And what does that have to do with—”
“Hush. I’m getting to that.” She shifted on the desk, her skirt rising to just below the knee, and as she slid off her shoe and rocked it on her toes, her calf tensed. The sight of her smooth, tanned legs made his mouth go dry and he swallowed hard.
“Go on,” he urged.
The sooner she finished the story, the sooner she would leave. And she most definitely had to give him some room.
If he’d eaten recently, he would have suspected his food had been drugged, because every sense in his body had gone wacky. If he’d been alone, he might have sought release from the sexual tension and taken matters into his own hands. If he’d been on an uncivilized world, he might have thrown her over his shoulder and carried her straight to his bed.
Lucan did none of those things, of course. But as Cael spoke, her words didn’t simply tell a story, they coaxed the blood in his veins to race double time. The seam in his pants had grown so tight he feared he might suffer a permanent indentation. And stranger still, he couldn’t have stood and walked away to save his life.
“After the stars lit the heavens, the blackness faded. Worlds warmed, life grew. Animals and people evolved. But the blackness never lost to the light. The blackness only retreated. On Pendragon, a woman named Jede claimed to honor the Goddess, but in truth, in the search for immortality, she practiced the dark ways. To teach Jede a lesson, the Goddess sent her two gifts.”
“Gifts are punishment?” He frowned.
“The first gift was eternal life. All Jede had to do to live forever was to obey the Goddess. The Goddess told her never to open the second gift.”
“But she did?” Lucan had heard similar legends in many cultures. Strange how often that happened. Earth had the story of Pandora’s box. Pendragon had the
Book of Jede.
“Jede lived long enough to bury her husband, her children, and her grandchildren. She remarried, had another family, and buried them, too. After many thousands of years, she had wealth, comfort, all the things she’d always believed were so important, but she still wasn’t happy. She grew bored, lonely. She decided the Goddess hadn’t given her a gift at all, but had cursed her. The pain of outliving those she loved ate away at her soul. Believing death would end her pain, she opened the second gift, assuming death would be the punishment for disobeying the Goddess.”
“What was inside? Did she lose her immortality?”
“A Goddess never takes back her gifts. She kept her promise of immortality, but she wasn’t cruel. Inside the box was a spell that turned Jede into a dragonshaper.”
“A dragonshaper?” He frowned again. “I don’t understand.”
“According to the legend, y)“as a dragon Jede wouldn’t suffer the loss of those she loved. Because as a dragonshaper she’d never be allowed the kind of love and family she’d enjoyed as a woman.”
“Why did you tell me this story?”
“I believe that like Jede the dragon, who got her wish, we will eventually get ours and break through the shielding. I just fear that, like Jede, when we get what we thought we wanted—”
“We won’t like what we find?”
“Now you understand.”
He supposed he did. Yet her fairy tale would not deter him. He’d come too far to back off because of a children’s story.
She angled her head, and her collar parted, revealing the choker necklace he’d glimpsed earlier. The spectacular gems in a multitude of sparkling colors had to be worth a fortune. But it wasn’t the stones or their value that made him suck in his breath.
The stones were embedded in metal.
And holy hell. The metal was engraved with an Anglo-Saxon alphabet, runes.
Lucan stared at the necklace, his mouth gaping. He couldn’t be certain from a glance, but it looked as if someone had inscribed other symbols beneath the runes, symbols that reminded him of the ones he’d seen on the star map, as well as on Avalon’s exterior wall. It was as if he was looking at two languages. Runes from Earth—which meant he’d be able to decipher them—and the glyphs from Pendragon.
Please… God. Let Cael’s necklace be the key he needed to read the code. Frantic, he reached for a piece of paper and pen. “Don’t move, Cael. Please let me draw—”
“Drawing my likeness is not permitted.”
He sketched with fierce, swift strokes. “I’m not drawing
you.
Just the symbols on your necklace.”
She reached up to her neck. “I don’t understand.”
“Please, don’t talk. Don’t move.” Lucan sketched what he saw. But with every line, every rune, his excitement mounted. He stared at her necklace, then the paper on his desk, making sure he’d made no mistakes, and then he darkened the runes—making the glyphs stand out in stark relief. “Where did you get that necklace?”
“It’s ancient and has been passed down from High Priestess to High Priestess for centuries.” Cael shot an odd look at him. “Are you reading those symbols?”
“Give me a minute.” Ignoring the runes, he stared at the glyphs, alien glyphs that were so close to the ones on Avalon’s walls his heart battered his ribs with agitation.
Picking up the paper, he sprinted to the port that looked out on Avalon. He held up the paper, placing it against the glass so that it appeared next to the glyphs on the obelisk. “They match. Exactly. They match.”
Cael peered over his shoulder. “I don’t understand.”
Lucan shook the paper and gse onecrinned. “There are two languages on your necklace. When I removed one, it left me with the other, glyphs, which are exactly the same symbols that are inscribed on Avalon’s walls.”
“Can you translate them?”
Damned if Cael’s necklace hadn’t turned out to be his Rosetta stone. “Now that I’ve separated the two languages, I can.”
The team of scientists, drawn to the port by the excitement in Lucan and Cael’s voices, surrounded them and stared at the drawings Lucan had made. “What does it say?”
“Tell us,” Quentin demanded.
“Please do,” Shaw agreed.
Rion slapped a desk, and, as usual, his action commanded everyone’s attention. “Settle down, people. Let the man think.”
Lucan waited until the team quieted, then studied the runes. “Drinking from Avalon’s cup is a shield against death.”
Holy hell.
“You did it.” Cael’s eyes brightened.
Rion shot him a thumbs-up. Quentin gave him a bear hug. Shaw embraced him. Other scientists clapped him on the back, their faces lit with enthusiasm.
“Look!” Rion’s shout echoed through the lab. “The shield’s morphing.”
Lucan turned to see. The shimmering sparkles vanished. The shield was down.
Gone.
Cheers again broke out around the lab, and Cael’s eyes teared with happiness.
“What about the nearby buildings?” Shaw asked. “Any sign of a cave-in?”
One of the geologists checked his instruments. “The topography’s stable.”
The team breathed a collective sigh of relief. The shield was down. And the city was safe.
