Authors: Emily Drake
The Dragon Guard (38 page)
Jon roared in rage and leaped at Jason.
Jason met every blow with pain jolting through him. The bamboo cane took one last hit and then shattered in his palms. Splinters sprayed everywhere. He somersaulted backward and landed for a split second before kicking out and letting his crystal's power loose.
It knocked Jon down. The other rolled off the crest, screams of hatred and anger spewing as he fell. He flailed in vain to get up and could not, quivering like a broken animal. Jason dropped to his knees and tried to breathe. His crystal flickered at his chest and went dim.
He kicked out. He caught Jonnard in the side of the head and the youth fell as if axed. He rolled over and over and over and came to a limp halt. He flailed once. He put his hand up, and cried, “Mother.”
Someone shouted a command and the great wagons rolled forward. Isabella sprang down from the wagon to haul Jonnard into the shelter of the wagon bed. Then she snapped out a command, and rough hands gathered Brennard's body and heaved it up, so that he, too, disappeared into the depths of a wagon.
She snapped off a word. Jason blinked, and then rolled to his side, as his Leucator fell on him. He shrieked at the cold fire as it tried to devour him. He stared into his own face, as it put its hands to his neck, and began to choke him.
She threw a great cloaking over the caravan, as it rolled past him and disappeared into the depths of Haven. The other black, long wagons followed, and three troops of grim faced soldiers after. They stared at him as they marched past. He could not stop them.
He wrestled with the Leucator, feeling the strength in his body drain away, heartbeat by heartbeat. He could feel the hands on his throat grow stronger and stronger.
“Which one?”
“Take them both out.”
“No!” Bailey cried. “One is Jason, one is not.”
He struggled and tried to kick free. His hand throbbed on the other's neck. The very touch of the Leucator sent burning chills deep into him. He could feel his neck bruising, collapsing, his breathing slowing.
Suddenly Bailey cried out, and the amethyst in her hand arched into a sword blade and she swung with all her might, and one of the Jasons stopped moving.
He sat up, gasping, after a very long moment.
“What . . . took you . . . so long?” He crouched, shivering uncontrollably.
“I had to know which was which.” She reached down and tapped his hand. “His scar was on the right hand. And his was all white and flat.”
His hand throbbed. The crescent scar flared red and angry, as it always did when evil came near. Jason tried to stand, and couldn't, and flopped down.
Trent climbed the hill, took Jason by the elbow, and helped him up.
“You won.”
Jason looked at him a moment, trying to comprehend the two simple words. Then he shook his head.
“Brennard is dead.”
“Jonnard lives. And they got through.” Jason leaned heavily on his friend. Bailey came up and gently bolstered him from the other side. “They still have Eleanora and FireAnn.”
Trent said quietly, “We lived. They didn't expect that. They used their hostages to get passage. And they've paid a heavy price.”
“So did we!” He could barely stand. He could feel the pain and hurt in every fiber of his body.
“We'll get them back.”
He had failed, ignoring what the dragon had tried to tell him. He thought he'd understood it all, and now he realized he understood nothing. Yes, the others who stood with him were safe, and for that he could be thankful, but he'd failed himself and Gavan. He had become the warrior instead of the guard, and had let war into a world he scarcely even knew.
“Whatever it takes,” he told Trent. “I will get them out of Haven.”
Trent held him up. “Then that's what we'll do. Tomorrow.”
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