The Halloween Collection (13 page)

“My name is Amara. I am a Dragon Child.”

He frowned. “A Dragon Child?”

She nodded. “The last of my kind. I was born
with the magic of dragons, though I am human.”

Her admission seemed neither to shock nor
surprise him. He merely nodded.

“And your name?” she prompted.

“I am…Jack.” His hesitation told her he had
another name. She let him have his secrets. “I am…was…a
knight.”

“What are you now if not a knight?”

He gave her a long look as though trying to
decide if she were worthy to carry his secret. Finally he spoke. “I
am a Sunwalker.”

Amara blinked. She’d heard tales of the
creatures. Immortals who fed from the sun as vampires fed from
human blood. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear warring against
her attraction. “A Sunwalker? But I thought they were all destroyed
a century ago.”

That was certainly what The Church had
claimed. That the immortal Sunwalkers who filled out the ranks of
the Templar Knights were demons from the pit of hell who needed to
be purged. Granted, Amara had never had much use for the Church. As
far as she was concerned, it had little to do with spirituality and
much to do with domination.

“Three of us escaped. We are the last.”

“But where have you been hiding all this
time? How did the French king’s hunters not find you?”

He smiled. “We haven’t lived centuries for
nothing. We hid far to the north, beyond Hadrian’s wall.”

Her hand went to her throat. “Dragon
land?”

He nodded. “We have a pact with them. We
keep their secrets and they ours. It has been most beneficial.”

“You would not betray them?” It seemed
astonishing that it would be so. He was a warrior trained, a
natural enemy of dragon kind.

His frown was fierce. “I know what it is to
be betrayed. I will not do it to another.” He gave her a very long
look. “And certainly not to a Dragon Child.”

“You know what it is I am?”

“The dragons speak of such as you. The Drago
says he has not seen one of your kind since he was a child. How
could you possibly know what you are? There are no dragons south of
the Wall.”

His question was reasonable. After all,
without a dragon to help her harness her abilities, she might have
thought she was the witch Sir Reginald believed her to be. Instead
she knew exactly what she was and could harness the magics within
her for the sake of peace. The way of a Dragon Child was not the
way of violence.

She smiled at the warrior. “I have someone I
would like you to meet.”

* * *

Amara carefully picked her way along the
narrow path. Well, not so much a path. More a deer trail. Barely
discernable beneath the shadows of towering oaks and half buried
under swaths of greenery, it rambled through the wood before
ascending up the side of Denham Reach, a small hillside deep within
the forest.

Halfway up the side of the Reach, she
stepped off the trail and made her way carefully between the
brambles and briars until she came to the cliff face. Jack stepped
up beside her.

“Now what?”

She smiled. “Have faith.”

She approached the side of the cliff and lay
her palm flat against the cool stone. She could feel the damp
grittiness against her skin. But beyond lay something else. She
closed her eyes and let her mind latch onto that something. It
sparked in recognition.

Amara stepped back from the cliff and
waited, Jack at her side. He fidgeted a bit, which surprised her.
For an immortal warrior he was awfully impatient. Then again she
supposed he was a man of action, not used to waiting around.

Then it came; the grinding sound that told
her the portal was about to open. Slowly the entire rock face slid
back, revealing the dark cavern beyond.

She nearly laughed at the expression on
Jack’s face. She grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the cavern.
“Come on, Sunwalker. Welcome to my world.”

* * *

“Welcome, Sunwalker.”

The low voice rumbled through his chest.
Jack opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He tried to
speak, but nothing came out. Beside him, Amara laughed.

“I think he’s speechless, Mavryn.” She
tilted her head and gave him a curious look. “I though you said you
lived in Dragon land?”

Jack finally found his voice. “I do. I’ve
just…ah, never seen a dragon in dragon form.”

“Would it be more comfortable for you if I
appeared in my human form?” The deep voice held a touch of
laughter.

“Only if you wish it,” he said politely.

A little puff of smoke accompanied
uproarious laughter. Then in a shimmer of color, the great winged
beast disappeared and in its place was a woman, bent with age. Her
snow white hair reached nearly to the floor and milky eyes gave
away her blindness. She was very old indeed.

“Come closer, Sunwalker.”

He moved closer and the dragon reached
unnerringly for his hand. She turned his hand over until it was
palm up and drew a symbol in the center.

“An interesting path you have taken and
still have yet to take.” Her blind eyes peered at him as though she
could see his face. “The Bloodline you seek is not here. Not in
this time. Not in this place.”

Her answer took him by surprise. He had told
no one of the vision which had sent him south, searching for the
descendent of a long dead race. “How did you know?”

“I know many things.”

He’d heard there were those of dragon-kind
who had the power of soothsaying, but he’d never met one. “Are you
certain?”

She cackled at that. “Yes, quite certain.
You have been brought here for another purpose. It will soon make
itself known.” She turned to Amara. “Come, child.”

Amara and the old dragon embraced. Jack felt
a pang of sorrow for Amara. It was clear the old one didn’t have
much time left on this earth. Her body was fading as surely as her
sight had done.

“Listen well, Dragon Child. I have taught
you all I can. The time has come for you to take a different path.
This is the last time we will see one another.”

“But Mavryn…”

“Hush, child. This is the way of
things.”

Tears trickled down Amara’s face. It was
obvious she knew the dragon was speaking of her own death. Some
idiocy had him reaching over to take Amara’s hand.

She clung to it like a lifeline.

“Mavryn, you are my family,” she
pleaded.

“As you are mine. But life is life and there
is no stopping its transition. You bear my amulet, and so all
dragon kind will know you as my kin.” She turned to Jack.

“You have met Sir Reginald?”

“Unfortunately.”

Her expression was grim. “He is an evil man
with a dark purpose. He is not the first of his kind you will meet,
nor will he be the last. He blames my Amara for the death of his
wife.”

He turned to Amara. “This is true?”

She nodded, sorrow etched on her beautiful
face. “She died in childbirth. I tried to help, but there was
nothing I could do. He blames me and claims I used black magic to
steal her soul.”

Jack barely refrained from rolling his eyes.
It was sheer ridiculous superstition, and more than likely it had
been just the excuse Sir Reginald needed to hunt her down.

Mavryn turned to Jack. “You will protect
her, Sunwalker.” It was not a request.

“With my life.”

She nodded. “Then my work here is done.” She
kissed Amara’s cheek. “Now go and leave me in peace.”

Jack dragged a sobbing Amara from the
cavern. It shut behind them with the finality of a tomb.

* * *

Jack lay staring at the ceiling. He didn’t
dare move lest he wake Amara. And more than anything she needed the
healing power of sleep.

By the time they’d returned to her cottage
she’d been exhausted from sorrow and tears, but she had refused to
let him go. So, he’d curled up in the bed with her. It was not
proper, but then nothing much in his life or hers was proper.

She stirred in his arms. “Jack.”

“Yes.”

“Did you mean what you said about protecting
me?”

“Yes.” He meant every word. She was a Dragon
Child. A being of peace, meant to bring unity and healing to the
world and to dragon kin. It was up to men like him to protect her
kind.

“Thank you, Jack.” Her soft lips pressed
against his.

Caught off guard, he froze for a moment,
then a wave of want hit him so strong it would have knocked him off
his feet had he been standing. Instead, he kissed her back with
everything he had, everything he was.

* * *

Hours later Jack woke. He frowned. Something
had woken him, he just wasn’t sure what.

Amara was still asleep, her naked body
cuddled into his. He smiled, remembering their lovemaking. Her body
was probably sore, but he had a hard time feeling bad about that.
He hoped she felt the same.

There was a strange orange glow outside the
window, though it was still night. He frowned and untangled himself
from Amara, stalking to the window.

Fire. The cottage was on fire.

Men swarmed about the little house, torches
held aloft. One man sat proudly on a bay horse, surveying the
destruction.

Sir Reginald.

Somehow he’d not only found Amara’s cottage,
but he’d gotten through her wards. Wards in dragon tongue, nearly
unbreakable. It was obvious he planned to burn them alive.

He ran back to the bed and shook Amara
awake. “Amara, wake up. We have to leave.”

She stirred sleepily. “What?”

“Amara, the cabin is on fire. Sir Reginald
found us. We have to leave now!”

She came awake then, shock and horror
written across her face. “How did he find us?”

“It doesn’t matter. Get dressed quickly. We
must leave.”

Without a moment’s hestiation she jumped out
of bed and threw on her clothes. He also dressed quickly, then
grabbed his sword and sheath.

“I have to get something.” She ran from the
room, returning a moment later with a leather bound book which she
quickly wrapped up in a shawl. “I’m ready.”

He nodded his approval. She was so
incredibly strong.

He peered out the back. They were completely
surrounded. Sir Reginald wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter them. There
were at least thirty of them. He couldn’t fight all of them and
still protect Amara. “There’s no way we can get to the woods
without being seen.”

She smiled. “I think I can help with
that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Have at it.”

Clutching the mysterious book to her chest
with one arm, she wrapped her free hand around her pendant. The
pendant which had once belonged to Mavryn. Closing her eyes, Amara
began chanting softly. He recognized the sound of it. Dragon
tongue.

Within minutes a heavy fog descended. Jack
literally couldn’t see two feet in front of his face.

“Come,” she whispered, “but keep quiet. They
can’t see us, but then can still hear.”

She led him across her garden and between
two of Sir Reginald’s men. She moved as though she could see
perfectly, yet both he and the men surrounding the cottage were
nearly blind from fog.

He could hear their panicked shouts and Sir
Reginald bellowing orders. No one saw them slip past and into the
woods.

They did not speak for nearly an hour as she
led them, swiftly slipping in and out of deep thickets and groves
until Sir Reginald, his men and the burning cottage were far behind
them. Finally they stopped to catch their breath.

Her eyes looked haunted. “Where shall I go?
Sir Reginald will never stop hunting me. Anywhere I go on this
earth he will follow.”

“There is one place he dare not go.”

She frowned. “Where? Where can I go that
will be safe?”

He smiled. “Beyond the Wall.”

* * *

Check out Shéa's Sunwalker saga:

Kissed by
Darkness

Kissed by
Fire

Shéa MacLeod lives in London near a cemetery. Which
explains a lot. Fortunately the neighbours are quiet.

http://sheamacleod.wordpress.com/

I let the dried dragon’s blood trickle
through my fingers and into my cauldron. Well, the bright pink
“Emeril” saucepan that pretends to be my cauldron, at any rate. The
red particles separated and spread across my potion, forming
curlicues around the bubbles. The liquid inside was the nasty green
color of boiled toads, but that meant I was doing something right,
so I wasn’t going to complain.

Fall air seeped through the small opening
under the kitchen window. It was refreshing on my skin against the
heat coming off the stovetop. Outside, the late afternoon sunshine
illuminated my garden where it still clung to a semi-state of life.
The first frost would destroy it, but until then, it gave me
something to watch as my potion boiled.

I grabbed a wooden spoon—the one with the
carved owl—and gave the pot a stir, whistling.

Aura sat on the bookcase above my head in
her position of power, eyeballing the proceedings with narrowed
yellow eyes. “You look ridiculous. Where is your ritual robe?”

Frowning, I pulled the spoon out of the pot
and glanced down at my clothes. Okay, so I was still in the tiny
purple tank top and red plaid sweatpants I had slept in, and maybe
I had Scooby-Doo slippers on my feet, but there wasn’t a dress code
for magick.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I sat
the spoon on the plate in the center of the stove, lifting my eyes
to my fluffy, black cat.

She cocked her head. “Hmm.”

“Whatever.” I opened the pantry above the
sink and shuffled through the mason jars until I found what I
needed. Unscrewing the lid, I pinched out an eyeball and turned
back to the stove.