The Lord of Illusion - 3 (33 page)

She nodded. Yes, she had wanted to keep them safe. Her intentions had gone awry, of course, but only because of her ignorance. Camille fought her fear of the black scepter and reached out and clasped her hand around Dominic’s. She ignored the flush of anxiety that flew through her body, the rapid pounding of her heart and the rolling of her stomach, and closed her eyes and willed him to have enough magic to sustain him.

And the scepter glowed. And Dominic quit trembling. “Astonishing,” he commented. “It is as if the scepter has become more powerful. Or as if I have. The magic comes to me much more easily now.”

“Camille is the key,” said Drystan.

“The key to a way to open the door,” finished Cassandra. “I grasp the meaning. Can you help Lady Cecily? I fear she is drained as well.”

“I shall try,” said Camille, a rush of satisfaction spreading through her. Perhaps Drystan was right, and she had not been directly responsible for the deaths of the children and Lady Pembridge. But she still felt a stain upon her soul, and her heart soared at the knowledge that she now possessed a way to avenge their deaths.

Perhaps she would become worthy of Drystan’s love after all.

Camille felt grateful for her elven strength and speed as she made it down one dragon’s tail to another, Drystan hard on her heels. Giles nodded when she reached out to clasp Lady Cecily’s hand, knowing her intent, and the blue scepter glowed just like the black. Cecily looked up at her from where she sat perched on blue scales, with such a look of gratitude and relief that Camille felt her eyes burn.

“For the first time,” said Cecily, “I feel like we might have a chance at accomplishing our task.”

“Guard her well, Drystan,” added Giles.

Cecily rolled her brilliant blue eyes at Camille.

She smiled in return, and then a rush of air made her sway on the dragon’s back. Drystan caught her about the waist. They both looked up as Dominic’s dragon launched into the air, quickly followed by Samson and Joscelyn’s.

“The beasts feel the rush of power,” said Lady Cecily. “They are eager to fly.”

Drystan nodded, pale hair whipping in the breeze, and quickly led Camille down the dragon’s tail. They managed to settle themselves on the back of their own mount just as another dragon took to the air.

“Giles and Cecily will take the rear,” shouted Drystan, as he wrapped his arms about her waist. “Hang on, love.”

And Camille’s stomach flew up into her throat as the beast fully spread his great wings and heaved upward. It did not feel like riding the golden dragon one bit. Indeed, it felt like the entire world moved.

The golden glow of the palace’s fiery turrets faded, and darkness surrounded them like a cloak. Camille’s eyes slowly adjusted, the moon and starlight providing just enough illumination for her to make out the shapes of the four dragons surrounding them. One in front, one at right, one at left, and one in the rear.

They climbed higher and higher, until the tip of her nose frosted and she began to shiver. She dared to release her hold from the blue scales and stuff her hands into the rabbit muff. The air smelled sharp and clean, but threatened to sear her lungs if she breathed too deeply.

“Watch this,” shouted Drystan against the roar of the wind.

He removed one of her hands from the muff and held it in his. A golden light surrounded them, and the air grew warm and still. Camille looked over her shoulder at Drystan in astonishment.

He gave her a lopsided grin. “My foster mother showed me how to do it. She uses a similar spell to create a bubble of air underwater. We had to modify it a bit, but I think it is better than the furs I used on my dragon, don’t you?”

Camille nodded, although she had not minded snuggling so closely to Drystan beneath those furs.

“It is odd,” he mused, “how magic is shaped by will, and yet you must know what you wish to shape it to in order for it to work. And why does
will
sap physical strength? It is almost as if one must pay a price to work the magic.”

“In my experience, nothing comes without a cost.”

“Which concerns me, Camille. This ability of yours. What cost will you pay?”

“If we manage to free the world of the elven lords, it will be worth any price.”

His arm tightened around her. “Not if it means losing you. I plan on living a long life with you, my love.”

She sighed and leaned her head back against his strong shoulder.

Drystan’s warm mouth moved at her ear. “You will marry me, Camille. After this is all over. Will you not?”

The dragon swayed as if dancing a minuet with the wind, and she clutched the blue scales again. If she refused him now, they would argue in circles. She would tell him she could never be a proper wife to a viscount, and he would tell her he did not give a damn what anyone thought of her. And then she would have to admit she did not know whether she could have children or not.

She cringed to think of the look upon his face.

No, it would be best to wait and see. And then… then, if she could not provide him with an heir…

She loved Drystan too much to make his life miserable. He would never admit to his disappointment. But a man with a title wanted children above all else. And Camille could only imagine what his mother would think, when her long-lost son returned home with a barren former slave.

No. She did not relish a future filled with silent reproach.

But she knew he loved her just as much as she loved him. After all their time together, she had little doubt of that. They could not live without each other. Unlike Giles, she admitted that much to herself very quickly.

So, Camille had come up with a plan. She would be his mistress. No one would raise an objection to Drystan’s having a former slave for a lover, not even his mother. He would have to set aside his honor, but it would be a small price to pay to insure he had a proper family.

“Yes,” she finally said. “After this is over, we shall be together forever.”

He did not seem to notice she had not agreed to marry him. Drystan nuzzled her ear and she turned, allowing his warm lips to cover hers. She did not know if they would survive the day. If they would manage to save England. If the enchantment the elven lord put upon her would ever be lifted.

Camille sighed and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, stroked the soft skin on the back of his strong neck, and for a time, forgot about the future, and just allowed herself to drink in Drystan’s strength and love. No matter what happened, she would always be grateful for the time they had shared together.

Drystan recited poetry to her between kisses, and Camille marveled at the sheer beauty of words. She would never have discovered such a thing without him.

He had just finished reciting
Love’s Secret
when a shout sounded from behind them.

Camille blinked. She had forgotten their companions. Forgotten that she rode a terrifying dragon high above the earth, on the way to a terrible place called the Seven Corners of Hell. Such was the power of Drystan.

They turned to look behind them. A golden predawn light had just begun to illuminate the sky, and Camille could see Giles gesturing wildly toward the rising sun. A small dark shape came into view.

“What is it?”

Drystan stiffened. “Another dragon. I cannot tell whether it is friend or foe—wait. Do you see the sheen of blue scales?”

“Yes.”

“Then either Malcolm or Dorian has managed to join us.”

They waited until the dragon came into full view. At first Camille could tell only that two people rode the beast, but as they neared, she could see the sheen of white hair, and red.

“Dorian and Aurelia,” pronounced Drystan. “Unless this Malcolm fellow managed to find another redhead.”

Then the spark of a green scepter glinted in the hazy light, and Camille knew Drystan had guessed right. The usurper of Verdanthame, Dorian Ward, and the Rebellion’s assassin, Aurelia Lennox, had managed to escape the siege and join them. A cheer sounded from the company as the sixth blue dragon flew into their formation.

“By damn,” muttered Drystan. “We may have a chance after all.”

“But we still need Annanor’s brown scepter,” said Camille.

“One hurdle at a time, love.” Drystan kissed her brow. “We have six. Let us rejoice in that for a while.”

Camille nodded and turned back around, melted into Drystan’s comforting arms. They would succeed. Malcolm would steal the brown scepter and join them. He must. She had little chance of happiness otherwise.

As the sun continued to rise, Lady Cecily began to circle the dragons down through the clouds, until the white vista of a snow-covered England began to appear. Far ahead, Camille glimpsed an area of darkness. An emerald canopy of forest that no snow appeared to touch.

“The Seven Corners of Hell?”

“Indeed,” replied Drystan. “We will wait on the southern border of the forest for Malcolm to join us.”

He did not voice any doubt that the half-breed would also manage the feat of joining them, and Camille did not have the heart to. All their plans now hinged on the Rebellion spy stealing Annanor’s brown scepter and escaping with it.

Lady Cecily landed her blue dragons with much more skill than Drystan had managed to land his golden. Camille felt nary a jolt as the large beast settled to ground. Drystan helped her to stand, and they stretched a moment, flexing cramped muscles.

The dragons formed a rough circle around their riders, and the entire company met in the middle, all eyes fixed upon the forest before them.

“Now what?” asked Dorian.

Camille turned to stare at their new member and his companion. Dorian resembled the elven lords, with the silver sparkles in his hair and his large green faceted eyes. But Aurelia was a surprise, for other than her uncanny beauty, she possessed no elven traits. Red hair, gray human eyes, and freckled skin. She threw back her fur cloak to reveal an assortment of daggers hanging from her belt, like so many pointed teeth. “Now, I suppose, we will have to wait.”

“Aye,” said Dominic, his midnight eyes focused on the evergreens. “And we cannot wait long. If Malcolm does not manage his end of the bargain, I will have to return to defend Firehame.”

“And I must return to Verdanthame,” added Dorian. “Annanor of Terrahame is tearing up my forest by the roots.”

“We must wait as long as we can,” said Lady Cassandra. “But I fear we make ourselves vulnerable, with so many scepters in one place.”

Giles stomped the snow beneath his boots. “I still think it is madness to go in
there
.” He stuck his chin up at the forest, the mark on his face glowing a livid green.

Samson and Alexander walked a restless circle just behind the dragons, scanning everything but the forest.

“They expect an attack,” said Wilhelmina, giving her husband a nod of approval. “The elven lords have been too quiet for my liking.”

“Did Lord North know anything more than that our plans were exposed?” asked Drystan.

“They do not know what the elven lords’ plan, if that’s what you mean,” replied Dominic.

“It is starting,” interjected Lady Cecily, taking a step back from the line of trees.

“What is?” asked Camille. But she did not receive an answer, for the forest suddenly erupted into a fountain of black flame, reaching far up into the sky. The dragons hissed; heads turned toward the sound of the seething flames. As one, the company moved back, even General Samson Cavendish and Alexander, distracted from their patrol of the snow-covered meadow surrounding them. The black fire blanketing the forest shivered, and red glowing stone slithered between the flames. Soon, a wave of blue water covered both, the sound like a thousand steaming kettles. The earth split, swallowing the chaos, and huge spires of jagged quartz grew upward, metal spikes sticking out from them, tearing apart creatures conjured of golden illusion.

Camille covered her ears against the sound of their screams.

How could they enter that madness to reach the source of magic? Surely they did not have enough power amongst them to survive in such chaos.

Giles turned and gave them all a look that screamed, “I told you so,” and then his eyes drifted beyond them to the meadow, and his sword trembled and literally flew into his hand.

Camille turned, and at the sight of the army facing them, suddenly felt her own sword to hand.

“No,” shouted Drystan, the forest still making creaking, groaning, ugly sounds behind them. “My scepter will do more than your sword. Take hold of my hand, Camille.”

She did, but still kept her weapon to hand. Drystan was probably right, but she did not want any of their enemy to get close to them without some defense. For other creatures besides humans comprised the army bearing down on them. Golden demons and ogres, and monsters from nightmares, with gemstones embedded in their foreheads. Camille had the fleeting thought that Ann would be amazed by the earth golems facing them. Far larger than her doll-like figures, they swung clubs made from gnarled branches, and wore nothing but stick and mud. Other creatures made of metal screeched and groaned as they charged, swords and pikes raised high.