Magic Triumphs
“With any luck, he’ll do what Roland does,” Curran said.
“Arrange his troops into rectangles and run them at us?” I asked.
“Mm-hm. He’s likely used to relying on numerical advantage.”
“And fire,” I said. “Don’t forget fire.”
“He does breathe fire?” Julie asked.
“Like a jet of ignited napalm.”
“Can you hold him back if you’re in your territory?” Hugh asked.
“Possibly.”
Curran leaned back. “We need to call another Conclave.”
“The problem is, we can’t kill him,” I said.
“Who?” Curran asked.
“Neig. If he decides he’s near death, he’ll just vanish into his lair.”
A whisper of movement sounded from the hallway and Yu Fong stepped out into the kitchen, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a light-brown hoodie. He looked no worse for wear. He moved with a slight stiffness, but his color was good.
“I tried to tell you before,” he said. “There may be a way.”
Everyone looked at me. “Saiman,” I told them. “He performed a ritual that let us talk briefly while Yu Fong was comatose. Each dragon lair has an anchor. It is the dragon’s most precious possession, his greatest treasure, cherished above all others. They pour their magic into it and it’s the foundation of the realm where the dragon makes its lair. But it can’t be destroyed.”
“As I tried to tell you,” Yu Fong said, “we don’t need to destroy it. If we can steal it for a time, the realm won’t respond to Neig’s commands. He will be trapped here and now.”
Everyone paused, mulling it over.
“Can you do it?” Hugh asked.
“No. I’m another dragon. Neig will sense the moment I enter his realm. Even if I could, I would not. The anchor is a thing of great magic that can’t exist outside its realm for long. It will seek to return. It will take enormous power to restrain it. The temptation for me would be too great. If I touch that anchor, it will pull me into Neig’s realm, and I have no intention of leaving this world. My place is here.”
“If not you, then who?” Curran asked.
“You have a book,” Yu Fong said. “About short people who sneak into a dragon’s lair and steal his anchor. Someone small and insignificant.”
“I’m small and insignificant,” Julie said.
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” she told me. “Kate, I’m small, sneaky, and quiet. I have a large reserve of magic and I know how to use it.”
“The child has a point,” Erra said.
“Everyone else is needed,” Julie continued. “You are the In-Shinar. Curran has to lead the mercs and inspire the shapeshifters. Hugh has to lead the Iron Dogs, Elara has to absorb witch magic, and Yu Fong can’t do it because he is a dragon. I can do it.”
“I’ll go with her,” Derek said.
“It would have to be done during the battle, when the madman is occupied,” Yu Fong said. “I know what will occupy him.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Me,” he said. “The moment he sees me, he will attack. I will buy you some time.”
“One flaw in this plan,” I said. “How will Julie get to the dragon’s realm?”
“Did you keep the shard of his fang?” Yu Fong asked.
“Yes.”
“It will act as a key. I will open the way. The timing will have to be perfect.” Yu Fong leaned forward, his gaze on me. “I repeat, a removed anchor seeks to reunite with its realm. Neither can exist apart. It will require great power to hold the anchor. And we don’t know how vast Neig’s realm is. We don’t know where he hides the anchor.”
The phone rang. Julie picked it up. “Yes?”
She held it out to me. “Ghastek.”
I took the phone with one hand, keeping my other one on Curran. “Please tell me you have something.”
“I do,” Ghastek said.
“I’ll be right there.” I hung up and turned to Julie. “The anchor is the eye of his dragon throne. It’s the ruby the size of a grapefruit located in the first room you enter once you cross the drawbridge. He is an arrogant ass. He doesn’t think he has to hide it. No heroics, Julie. Get in, get out, bring me the anchor, and I will restrain it.”
* * *
• • •
GHASTEK DIDN’T WANT to risk bringing outsiders into the vampire stables. Instead they had moved the yeddimur into one of the side rooms. It sat in a loup cage, staring at us with its owlish eyes. At one point it had been a human baby. Atlanta had a lot of babies.
Ghastek, Luther, Saiman, and Phillip had arranged themselves around a table strewn with notes. Some notes had coffee rings on them.
Curran sniffed the air. His lips stretched, baring the edge of his teeth. The yeddimur stench. I squeezed Curran’s hand. He was still here with me. So far, the tech had failed to steal him from me.
Behind me Hugh grimaced at the yeddimur. He had insisted on coming. We had dropped Elara at the Covens. Now we were facing the yeddimur, Luther, Ghastek, Phillip, and Saiman. The four experts looked rather smug.
“We figured out how it was made,” Phillip said, excited.
“Venom,” Saiman told me.
“Dragon venom,” Luther corrected. “Applied very shortly after birth, probably inhaled.”
“That remains to be determined,” Phillip said.
“Concentrate,” I told them, before they launched into another bickering session.
“It’s a dog,” Ghastek said. “For all intents and purposes, it acts as one. A dog has to be able to discern commands.”
“However, according to all of d’Ambray’s notes, the warriors never make any gestures,” Luther said.
“We theorized that the commands are subvocal,” Saiman said. “They have extremely efficient ears, sensitive enough to catch a whisper.”
“I could’ve told you that,” Hugh said.
“How does any of this help us?” I asked.
“Wait.” Ghastek pushed a key on the phone. “Bring in subject B.”
The double doors in the wall opened and two journeymen pushed a second cage in, also containing a yeddimur.
“Where did you get the second one?” Curran asked.
“Beau Clayton,” Saiman said. “His deputies caught one.”
The journeymen connected the two cages, locking them together. They gripped a steel handle, pushed it to the side, and the gate between the cages fell open. The yeddimur on the left scuttled over and sat on its haunches next to the yeddimur on the right.
“They’re us and we are social animals,” Luther said.
“They are quite happy sharing the cage,” Phillip said. “They sleep together and eat together.”
“We had to ask ourselves, if they are controlled by subvocal commands, then what would be the exact opposite of that?” Saiman said.
Ghastek turned to Luther. “If you please.”
Luther nodded, reached behind the desk, and produced a set of bagpipes.
“You play bagpipes?” I asked.
“No, but it was determined via experimentation that of the four of us, I produce the worst sound.” Luther stuck a pipe into his mouth and blew on it. A piercing note screamed through the room.
The yeddimur screeched.
Luther blew on the pipes. A cacophony of sounds filled the space. Curran clamped his hands over his ears. The yeddimur snarled and ripped at each other. Fur and blood flew.
Luther stopped.
The yeddimur took a few more swipes at each other and broke apart, each skulking to its own corner of the joined cages.
“We’ve tried over fifty different sounds,” Ghastek said. “Bagpipes are the most efficient. We’ve attempted them fifteen times and every single time we’ve gotten the same response.”
Suddenly the bagpipes on the druid stone made total sense.
“The sound drives them mad,” Luther said.
“It drives me mad,” Curran said, his eyes shining with gold.