Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1) (30 page)

I pondered that. “Your speech is during the eclipse?”

“Of course. That is why we are all here.” He smiled.

“That’s what I don’t understand. The eclipse is why your dragons are running amok, killing citizens in search of some old book. As a native, I take offense to that. You never asked to enter my territory, and you have murdered several people rather than simply asking someone for what you seek. As an arcane book dealer, I could have helped you, but you never asked. You chose threats instead. Breaking into my bookstore not once, but twice is a death wish.” His eyes tightened, obviously surprised to hear about the second break-in. But if it hadn’t been him, then who? I pressed on. “Foolish for a leader of any kind. It’s no wonder you couldn’t keep Misha from my control. You are weak.”

His face grew tight. “Be careful. I can be a generous friend, or a terrible enemy.”

“I’ll take my chances.” I answered with a disdainful shrug.

He prickled. “The book is a family heirloom, and does not belong in the hands of thieves.”

“The people who are dead were not thieves, obviously, or you would have your precious bedtime story by now. Fucking idiot.” I looked back at Gunnar. “Can you believe this guy? Dragon
Lord
? What a crock! Can’t even get an old family book back.”

He growled then. “You would dare mock me?” His face was scarlet.

“There is a difference between fact and mockery. Stating the truth is not punishable. If it offends, it is because it is true, and you have no grounds for argument.”

“I will strip the flesh from your bones…” He began.

I brought my arms down with a snap, and whips of power suddenly exploded from each wrist: one made of liquid fire, the other of liquid ice, each crystal as sharp as a razor. The whips extended six feet to either side of me, shattering a table and a clay vase. The rug caught fire at the edges where the fiery whip rested, and a quick flick of my other wrist shattered a huge fish tank, instantly turning the water and everything inside it into a solid block of ice. My body reacted to the sudden release of power, pleased beyond measure.

“Try me,
Raego
. I fucking
dare
you.” I hissed back, smiling through my teeth. Gunnar was in half wolf form, perched on his toes, and Tory had one of the dragons pinned against the wall with her hand squeezing the delicate throat, the dragon’s legs kicking feebly as she tried to escape. Tory squeezed tighter and the dragon slumped with a final exhale, unconscious, I hoped. Misha clapped her hands, giggling. My rage was passing through them like extensions cords of my power, overriding their own conscious thought process. Creepy, but probably life-saving in this case.

The Dragon Lord blinked back, eyebrows furrowing. “I am not Raego, but I am very interested to hear how you discovered his name. My name is Alaric Slate. Why are you so fixated on Raego? Is he in St. Louis?” The man’s eyes were anxious. “You can put away your weapons. I mean you no harm… this night. I stand by my word. As much as it displeases me not to kill you.”

Sensing the truth, I drew back my power, motioning my friends to do the same. My whips of power snapped out of existence. My thoughts raced. If he wasn’t Raego, then that meant there
was
a third player out there somewhere. Not good. Perhaps the third player had broken into my shop. “The feeling is mutual, but know that I will see the murderers dead before you leave town.”

“Well, we won’t be leaving any time soon, Master Temple, so I propose a truce.”

“I give you until this formal conversation is over.”

He pondered that for a minute, and then nodded. “Agreed. Bring me the book tomorrow, and I will let you see the thief.” I began to argue, but he held up a finger. “I carry bargaining power. The thief is not all that I have that might tempt you. I have obtained one of your friends, and their limited existence depends on your cooperation.”

I instantly thought of Indie. “Who?” I whispered, the whips of power immediately flaring out again. I was even surprised at my creation, because the more I thought about it, the more sure I was that I had never created such a weapon as them before.

“You shall see when you accompany me at my short speech tomorrow afternoon.”

“What is so important about this book? Or the eclipse for that matter?”

His smile grew distant, nostalgic. “The book is similar to the Old Testament of the Christian Bible. It explains much of our direct lineage from that first dragon. It is said that somewhere in that story is hidden a ritual to awaken a true Dragon Lord — the Obsidian Son — granting him the powers of our very distant, first ancestor. He will receive incalculable powers, and lead us into an era where we are respected, and feared. We have pieced much together from that ritual, but I would like to verify as much as possible before I attempt it. The eclipse is like the Solstices for the Faerie: A day of balance and power, where one reclaims control over the other. Alas, we will not be taking power from anyone, but rather reclaiming the power and control that was lost to us over the years.”

He turned back to me, smiling. “It is very dear to me.”

“So you think that you are powerful enough to be this leader?” A nod. “A leader is more than power. A leader has a sharp mind, where you have the mind of a brute if you can think of no other way to obtain this book than by shedding innocent blood.”

His eyes laughed at my childlike naivety. “We are
monsters
, Master Temple. We don’t play by the traditional rules of your precious humans. They are all food for us, not worthy of existing but for our appetites. Check the guest list for tomorrow. You will see numerous aliases from all walks of life, but I guarantee that I will have
hundreds
of dragons to answer my call, from all over the world. If that isn’t good leadership, then I don’t know what is. Now, it is time for you and your friends to leave. Perhaps tomorrow I will discover how you gained your mind control powers. I must admit that I hadn’t anticipated this ability of yours. It makes things… more complicated, but I could still have use for you when I take the city. Until tomorrow…” Then he bowed, and turned his back on us. He pointed at two particularly dazzling women, snapped his fingers, and pointed at a distant bedroom. He began undressing as he walked. “I trust you can let yourself out like good dogs?” He mocked over his shoulder.

We did. Fuming, I snatched up the music box, and we left.

Next batter up, Asterion, the Minotaur.

Chapter 30

I
stepped out of the car, feet crunching on the frosted grass. “You sure you don’t want different backup? I would feel terrible if I helped kill the Minotaur.” Gunnar added. I rolled my eyes. Some help he was. Misha and Tory sat in the backseat, looking anxious to join me. I didn’t believe that I had permanently mind-fucked Misha, but she had switched sides at some point, and was proud of it.

“You two mind waiting here for us?” I asked the two women with a grin through the open rear window. They nodded, smiling coyly at each other. Maybe Tory would get her chance at that drink after all.

I began walking away from the car, speaking to Gunnar. “I doubt I will need your help, but you must obey my commands if you come. This is between him and I. No participation unless I say so.” Gunnar looked relieved that he wouldn’t have to get his paws dirty. Since when did minions become so useless? In all the stories I had read, they looked after their master’s best interest, despite contrary orders. Maybe I was a crock leader also. I sighed, pushing the thought away.

We left the car running. The falling sun sat heavy and cold in the sky. We walked for a few minutes, past the point where I had conversed with Asterion two days ago. I began to grow nervous, wondering if I was too late, or at the wrong place. We finally stepped out of the proximity of the Land Rover’s Xenon headlights and into darker pasture, the metaphor not lost on me.

I felt a tingle of power and we were suddenly in a different place entirely. Torches surrounded us in a wide circle, wicks crepitating loudly in the silence. Trees climbed high beyond the torches, allowing only a bit of the sunset to hit us. It felt old, ritualistic. In the center of the ring, limned by the firelight, sat a table, and before the table sat the Minotaur. Shadows wavered around the ring of firelight, swaying back and forth like dancers. I heard a snickering neigh from outside the light, but saw nothing except more shadows. There had been no visible sign that we were sharing the pasture with anyone while we had been walking through the empty field, yet here we were.

I looked up, and noticed that the sun had dropped significantly, resting just above the horizon, blazing with fire and warmth like it was the height of summer. Then I realized that I was warm, no, hot. As if it really was summer. I blinked at that. The grass wasn’t frosted, but budding with life. Asterion was watching us, amused. “No wonder you convince all the heifers to do you. You have the coolest digs in the pasture.”

He smiled back, shaking his head. “None of my partners have seen this place. It wouldn’t be appropriate. It is always warm and sunset at the Dueling Grounds.” He said.

The Dueling Grounds.

“You mean that this place is set aside just for dueling? Where are we?”

He studied us for a moment, face pensive. “You are between worlds, wizard. Not part of your world, completely, and not part of mine, completely. It is a rift between the two, just like sunset, stuck between two stark realities: day and night; myth and your world.” As if that were answer enough, he continued. “I see you have brought a friend. That is, I suppose, in agreement with the Accords, but still…”

“He’s a huge fan of yours. In fact, I doubt he’ll help me kill one of his mythological heroes if he has any say.” Gunnar nodded simply, glad that I had made his stance clear. He still thought that a simple discussion could solve things — how terribly naïve. I, on the other hand, was more certain of a different outcome for the night. One of us must die, or be severely injured, maimed, or incapacitated to win the duel.

“Kill? I have informed you that I am now enlightened, or attempting to achieve such a state. Why talk of killing, Master Temple?” Asterion snorted.

“That is the definition of a duel. And you did say that this was according to the old traditions, not your New Age protocol.
Promises made, promises kept
were the words you used, if I am not mistaken. And I am never mistaken when it comes to my memory.”

“There are numerous ways to win a duel, Master Temple. Come, sit, we must converse like gentlemen.” I heard another neigh beyond the flames, and then the scream of a dying animal.

“Um, do we have company that I should know about?” I asked. Gunnar looked uneasy as well.

“Grimm must have grown hungry…” Asterion said thoughtfully. He appraised me as I walked closer. “Your power has increased since last we met.” I shrugged. He touched the air around me, feeling the tendrils that I thought only I could see. “Yet you leak all around you. Why do you waste your power?” He asked with a frown.

“It’s kind of new, and when I don’t leak, I become kind of reckless.” I answered honestly. This was not the kind of duel I had expected, but the night was still young, so I remained guarded.

Asterion stroked his thin beard. “Your new power is seeking to fill you up, yet your cup — at the moment — is too small to hold it all in, so you spill over to those near you. You must deepen your cup.” He said as if it made all the sense in the world.

“Thanks, Confucius, but I don’t know what that means or how to do it.”

Asterion tilted his bull-like head. “You must learn soon. It is not finished growing.” I blinked. “In fact, I think it is only just beginning. But come, we shall discuss other things this night.”

Armed with that assurance, I sat down across the table from him. Most of my newfound power centered in my chest, eager to jump out into whatever form I would allow, but the rest flowed loosely about me. “So, how does this work if we aren’t going to bash each other’s brains in?”

Asterion turned to Gunnar. “Does he always speak so boorishly,
Wulfric
?”

Gunnar nodded with a proud smile at the title. “He either talks like this, or like a man stepping out of a Dickens novel. No one really knows why he switches back and forth so much. Sometimes he acts like the perfect gentleman, but then others…” He waved a hand at me as if in explanation. Asterion pondered me with another stroke of his beard. I ignored it, but was surprised at Gunnar’s perception.

A game board sat in front of us, black and white stones patiently waiting for our fingers to command. “Do you know the game? There are many different versions, but this one is quite unique, of that I can assure you…” Asterion smiled darkly, rattling a leather dice cup in one meaty fist.

“We’re going to play a board game?” I asked in disbelief.

He nodded. “The game of the Gods.”

“
Oi chusoi Dios aei enpiptousi
…” I muttered to myself, remembering a phrase from my father.

Asterion arched a brow. “The dice of god are indeed always loaded. I’m surprised at your languages, Master Temple. You are truly your father’s son.” He sounded sad.