Dark Highland Fire

Jagrin.



Gabriel fought the urge to recoil, to try to slink backward into the sheltering darkness of the trees. Instead, he stood his ground, stomach roiling as he caught the unmistakable scent of Lucien's fear. It puzzled him that a dragon would be afraid of anything at all. But a quick glance told him that Lucien's pupils were dilated, his breathing catching. And his bright violet eyes were fixed on the tiny vial that dangled from a thin chain around Jagrin's neck, glinting dully in the faint light.



The daemon stank of death.



"How fortunate that we meet," Jagrin purred, his red eyes full of hatred as they fixed on each of them in turn. His two companions flanked him, their silence just as unnerving as Jagrin's speech. All looked hungry.



"What do you want, Jagrin? The daemon are unwelcome in the Noor." Lucien's voice was bereft of its usual resonance, and sounded thin and uncertain in the night air. Jagrin's lips peeled back in a grotesque imitation of a smile.



"As are the dragons, Andrakkar most especially. And yet here you are as well." His eyes flicked down to Gabriel. "Along with that which was promised and not given."



Gabriel growled softly. As obscene as it seemed, he was hoping that Lucien had some better way of defending the two of them than he alone had managed the last time. Of course, that was assuming Lucien wouldn't just hand him over and run.



The chances, he knew, were not good.



"The bargain was fulfilled," Lucien said, his tone warning. "It isn't my fault you couldn't handle him once I left."



"Hmm," said Jagrin, a noncommittal sound. "I have a promise, sworn on the blood of a dragon, that I would have an arukhin, or the dragon himself, for my services. Yet I have nothing but the promise. That remains, and so we are still bound."



He slid his fingers beneath the chain to dangle the vial before them, swinging it back and forth, back and forth It was the pendulum. And he and Lucien lay in the pin watching it slice ever lower.



"We are bound by nothing, daemon," Lucien snarled. He began to Change, only to have Jagrin give an amused little chuckle and hold out one hand. Immediately the process stopped, and Lucien let out a choked noise, shuddering as his scales disappeared and his claws retracted.



"Not so fast, my lord Andrakkar. You should know better than that. I can't be so easily killed, nor the promise so easily broken. And your father is dead. Be mindful that I have little incentive to take any care with you anymore."



Lucien seemed to take the news without surprise, though the scent of his fear increased exponentially. "If he is truly dead, then I am now the dragon king," he said. "Remember how much easier my rule will be on your kind, and leave this place."



"Your rule," Jagrin sneered. "Even now the dragons move to choose another to lead. They assume and hope you to be dead. Your people grow weary of the name of Andrakkar, Lucien. And my kind demand the payment that was promised."



Though Gabriel had expected Lucien to turn on him immediately at that, as he had gathered that he was supposed to have been the payment, the dragon lord hesitated. "Surely," he said at length, "there must be another way. I can't allow you to take me. Or," he murmured, casting a quick and inscrutable glance at Gabriel, "I'm afraid, the arukhin."



Gabriel could only stare, incredulous. What was this?



Jagrin snorted, looking as disbelieving as Gabriel felt. "Have we forged a friendship with our enemy in the heat of battle, Lord Andrakkar? How sweet. And how pathetic."



Lucien's expression, shrouded in shadows, revealed nothing. His voice stayed steady. "Be that as it may, the situation has changed. There must be something else you desire ... besides a battle with the two of us."



Gabriel had heard enough. He shifted in the blink of an eye and stood to glare at the man who had recently put a lot of effort into becoming the bane of his existence, certain that Lucien was trying to play him for a fool one last, deadly time.



"You bloody lunatic," he snapped, poking a finger into Lucien's chest to push him backward. "I don't know what you're up to, but I sure as hell don't need your protection."



Lucien's eyes flared. "Protection! You're as much a fool as I thought. I don't give a damn what happens to you," he spat back. "You can burn in the fiery pits of Azgaroth for all I care. But because you matter to her ..." He trailed off, the words seeming to catch in his throat. And intermingled with the fury in his eyes, Gabriel saw something he had never expected, nor thought this dragon capable of—regret. "Because you matter to my ... my sister ... you won't be sent there by my hand. I have caused her enough pain, more than she will ever forgive, or should. I wish I had recognized ... but then," he said with a sharp, bitter bark of a laugh, "it's far too late for foolish wishes. There is just you, and me ... and a few bloodthirsty daemon." Lucien shook his head, and Gabriel saw, with a sinking feeling, that there were indeed things that the dragons feared. "Why didn't you just let me run?"



Jagrin watched the two of them, intrigued. "Really? The object of your desire is your own flesh and blood? Well, well, well. Very unfortunate." His voice took on a note of malicious amusement as he focused his attention solely on Lucien. "I don't suppose you have anything left to live for then, do you, Master Lucien? No woman. No kingdom. Bastard of a father newly deceased. Why, I'm surprised you don't just want to die."



Very slightly, Gabriel saw Lucien flinch. A nerve had clearly been hit. "There's been enough death here tonight," he said softly.



"Oh, I think not," Jagrin replied, letting the vial around his neck drop back against his chest. "Not if you choose to fight what you've agreed to. Look at it this way. I'm doing your people one last favor, ridding them of the madness of your house. Besides, while the forest shifter still has his appeal, I can think of a great many more uses for a dragon." His grin was hideous. "A great many." He turned his head slightly to one of his companions.



"Take him." He considered Gabriel for a moment, then shrugged. "And the other. Though I think we'll just tie him to a stake and let the scavengers have at him. It's no less than he deserves."



It was all he needed to hear to set him to action. Gabriel sprang at Jagrin with a snarl, Changing in midair to barrel into the daemon as a Wolf. Jagrin screeched as they flew backward, rolling when they hit the ground in a tangle of teeth and claws. Gabriel howled as Jagrin's needle-like teeth sank into his shoulder, but managed to get in his own blow soon after, raking his claws across Jagrin's face. Vile green liquid welled in the deep slashes and ran freely into the daemon's eyes and mouth. Still he struggled, gagging on the dark words he meant to use on Gabriel.



A sudden shout, a flash of light, and suddenly it seemed there were a great many more fighting on his side. A voice he recognized as Bastian's cut through the bloody haze. The howls of the other daemon rose into the night as his friends joined the battle.



"Get him! Rowan, watch yourself, he's going to move ..."



Another flash of light, a tortured scream, and a whiff of brimstone immediately followed Bastian's command. Gabriel wanted to look, but he finally had the lead daemon pinned beneath him. All that was left was to end it. But as Jagrin's red eyes stared up at him, something was badly amiss. He didn't look like a creature about to die.



"Not ... this time," he gasped, spitting out blood. "Kethamra ... natar..." Without warning, Gabriel was thrown backward, landing hard on the ground as a dark figure leaped onto Jagrin, grappling fiercely. It happened so fast that he barely had a moment to register what was happening before it was over. There was a blur of movement, a snarl of triumph, and a tortured, unearthly scream.



A blinding burst of light, a whiff of smoke, and finally, silence. Gabriel struggled to his feet to find a dazed-looking Bastian staring at a spot on the ground a few feet away, Gideon at his side. The ground before them was pouring white smoke.



The world went gray when he tried to gain his feet, and he remembered the blood streaming from the wound in his shoulder. Then, mercifully, there was the scent of autumn, and Rowan's arms were around him, giving him heat, lending him support where he felt like he might not be capable of it himself. Gabriel wrapped himself around her, gladly submitting to the touching, stroking, caressing fingers that roved over his face, through his hair.



Her voice was shaky as she admonished him. "Very nice job, but please stop fighting with things that have bigger teeth than you, okay?"



He laughed softly, nuzzling into her hair and realizing that he was going to need to go to sleep for roughly a week to recover from this adventure. Which meant Rowan was sleeping for just as long. Because his current plans involved never letting go of her again. "Nice try. I'm still going to fight with you, no matter what you say."



"You shouldn't. I'm meaner than the daemon."



"Don't I know it." Gabriel sighed contentedly, aware that they were not alone and not particularly caring. He'd seen Gideon and Carly all over each other often enough. It was his turn to be disturbingly mushy.



"When I saw him bite you ... this is twice in as many days that I've thought I lost you." Rowan's voice wavered, and he knew that her humor was just cover for worry. It was a mechanism he understood well.



He opened one eye to look at her through a curtain of red hair.



"Well, I think we can safely say that dragons and daemon are no match for me. So unless you've got anything else for me to fight, I'll take a couch and some palm-waving servants from now on. Maybe a cold beer, once I smuggle it in. Naked lap dances once in a while from my goddess of a wife. I'm an easy man to please."



Rowan stroked Gabriel's hair absently as she knelt beside him. "I think the servants are out. And I don't do lap dances. Though I may consider making an exception for my very furry husband." She kissed him softly on his cheek, which was rough with stubble.



"We may as well go back to the camp," Gideon said from beside them. "It's over."