Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Zerek uncloaked and managed to catch up with the marching Highlanders on their way to launch a nighttime assault against Cumberland's government forces.

He fell in line just as the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end and the claws of ice crept up his spine.

A strong hand gripped his shoulder.

Zerek reached for the dagger tucked into his sleeve, the same move he'd made the first time he'd been here.

Spinning about, he stared Valentine square in the face. "Bloody hell man, I thought ye were a slayer."

"I am nae that cold."

He hadn't realized how much of a brogue he, Duncan, and Val had lost over the years until now. Then again, they hadn't spent all of the last two centuries in Scotland. "Is Duncan marching?"

"Nae. He's at Staegylken Keep. Dabraxas wishes us to join them there."

"We cannae abandon the march."

A dark look consumed Val's features. "It was nae a request."

Damn Dabraxas. Despite promising himself he wouldn't do anything to alter time, it was still difficult to leave a line of men who he knew would turn back before they even attempted to carry out their intended surprise attack. In dragon form he could have aided them. But he hadn't in the past and he couldn't now.

"Verra well." He left the line and followed Valentine until they reached the cloaked keep belonging to Staegyl. The large stone castle with its five round towers stood visible only to shifters. It was the least penetrable fortress owned by one of their kind. Only a dragon of equal or more power could break through Staegyl's cloaking spells, and there was less than a handful of them still living.

Entering the main hall, Zerek took the stone steps two at a time up to the great room and marched inside.

At the far end of the chamber, the legendary Staegyl stood, wings furled and steam seething from his nostrils. He flexed his massive claws.

Only a single soul could push the powerful dragon to the point he was risking shooting fire within his own home. Not that Dabraxas had anywhere near the dragon power Staegyl bore, but the man did have control over their unit. And for that one reason, Staegyl, like the rest of them, did not unleash their wrath upon Dabraxas. They held true to the oath they'd taken back in Rome.

Zerek eyed Valentine. "What has the eejit done now?"

"Ye ken Dabraxas. He's an arse at best. At worst…"

"Glad to see you finally join us, MacKenzie." Dabraxas leaned against the hearth's stone frame, his stance one of a man without cares.

"Ye pulled me from the march."

Across the room, Duncan stood with arms crossed over his chest. "He pulled the four of us from the march."

Now he knew why Staegyl was pissed.

Dabraxas lifted his chin. "This is not our fight."

"Bloody hell it's not." Zerek slammed his hands on the long, wood table in the middle of the room. "This is my homeland. I'm a Scotsman and I have no intention of abandoning my people."

"You're only half Scot. You were born in Rome to a Roman father. The Empire owns you and never forget that."

"The empire fell centuries ago."

Dabraxas wandered over to the table but remained on the opposite side. "You took an oath. And as long as the five of us in this unit live, that oath still stands."

He was not going to abandon the rebellion. "Ye cannae do this, Dabraxas. "Ye are sending those men to their deaths."

"Your prince is sending them to die. I spoke with Charlie just today and there is no changing his mind. I tried. I truly did. But the man refuses to reconsider. I advised he regroup, but he flat out refused."

"Then at least let us help the men. In dragon form we can beat the English. We can scorch the area around their encampment, force them to retreat, buying Scotland much needed time."

"No."

"I ken ye were a beast, but to be this cold is to be the devil incarnate."

Dabraxas remained calm. "I've assessed Cumberland's troops. They've had sleep, been given extra rations, and their morale is far superior to what the Scots have. The Hanoverian will win this battle."

"Then he will win it with me going down, dying a proud death."

Staegyl, despite having lost his human side ages ago, still retained the ability to speak. He swung his head to stare directly at Zerek. "You will not die if I fly out first."

"You will do no such thing," Dabraxas said. "Roman dragon law dictates you must follow my order, for I speak in Caesar's name."

"Caesar no longer lives," Duncan said.

Dabraxas glared. "But I do. And I say we are abandoning this rebellion, now."

Staegyl opened his mouth and spit scalding steam against the wall.

Dabraxas spun around and threw his dagger at the dragon. It wedged in the beast's shoulder.

Zerek growled. Fuckin eejit.

Staegyl swung his head low, his normally golden eyes now transformed into orbs of molten fire. He walked the chamber with slow, heavy steps, shaking the castle. He halted at Dabraxas' side. "Know this, Legatus, I obey only one King and that is not Caesar nor you. And because of Him, I will not take your life. For now. But should we meet again, I will not vow not to risk my soul by killing you." He cloaked himself, then flew out of the room, the flapping of his wings pushing air like gusting winds.

"Turn over your sigils," Dabraxas commanded.

Zerek fumed. "Ye cannae be serious."

"Do so or die."

"We'd be better off melding. As dragons we can fly away far faster than running in human form."

Dabraxas shook his head. "Cumberland has slayers among his men, even if he is not aware of the fact. We cannot risk being discovered, as dragons have not flown the skies, uncloaked, in centuries. If you go out there as dragons, a full-fledged war will begin. And I will not allow you to risk our kind as a whole. Now turn over your sigils so no slayer can detect your dragon-side."

Zerek held his tongue but inside him anger raged.

Duncan raised his arm, dragon scales emerging from his shoulder to his wrist. He ripped out the sigil hidden among his orange scales. He threw it to Dabraxas.

Valentine did the same.

With a huff, Zerek followed suit, but instead of aiming for Dabraxas' hand, he threw his sigil at the man's boot covered feet.

Dabraxas retrieved it with a scowl. "You'll get these back once I know it will be safe to return them."

"You're a bastard."

"And you, a fool." Dabraxas turned and left the room.

"We cannae let him get away with this," Zerek said.

"I'll follow him." Duncan stalked toward the hall.

"No," Zerek said. "Stay with Valentine. You'll both be safe here as Cumberland and his slayers will not be able to breach Staegyl's cloaking magic. I'll follow Dabraxas and learn where he's taken our sigils." He paused and thought over how best to handle his next move without disturbing time. "If I don't return by late tomorrow night, then go back to Dragoncross Abbey without me."

"Damn it, Zee." Duncan said. "Please tell me you are not going to disobey Dabraxas' order and join the fight."

Valentine cursed. "Ye'd be best falling on your sword now, then."

"No. As much as it pains me, I am not going to take up arms against the English as I gave Dab my word. But I do have something I must tend to and please do not ask what that is."

Valentine remained silent.

As did Duncan, which is the exact response he'd expected as both men never failed to respect his wishes. Nor he, theirs.

Without another word, Zerek headed out of the great hall.

Dabraxas, if what he said about Cumberland having slayers among his troops was true, then he too would not meld to dragon form. Which meant he'd be on foot when hiding the sigils and wouldn't get far.

A hint of dragon fire laced the air.

As did the odor of rain-soaked earth.

Rounding the keep, the snap of a twig alerted Zerek. He lurched back, planted his spine firm against the castle's stone fa?ade. He held his breath.

Dragon scales snaked under the skin of his chest.

Balon hadn't been this agitated when they'd last been back to Culloden. But something was off at the moment with the beast inside him and the only time that had happened in the past was when he'd confronted his father. And the man hadn't been a part of these years of his life when he'd first lived them. More than likely his dragon's agitation was attributed to losing its sigil and nothing more.

Flicking the dagger he'd kept under his sleeve, he slid it into his palm and gripped the hilt. He rounded the corner.

While his supernatural powers were not as keen as when he had his sigil embedded in his scales, he did still retain far better senses than if he had been born wholly human.

He scanned the area behind Staegylken Keep.

A dark shadow moved through the woodlands, morning's blustering wind rustling the tree leaves.

Wrinkling his nose, Zerek sniffed the air.

Leather.

Myrrh.

Basil.

Dabraxas.

Zerek forged ahead, his steps cautious and slow.

In a small clearing knelt Dabraxas. He scratched at the ground with his hands as well as a small knife, tufts of grass and dirt scattering around his knees. At least he hadn't picked somewhere that left the sigils vulnerable to being discovered by humans or slayers.

Cloaking didn't hide just Staegyl's castle, it also kept hidden the grounds upon which the building's dungeons spanned. And Staegyl had built a network of tunnels under his home that stretched far wider than the lawns and small gardens. The sigils would be protected as long as Staegyl retained ownership of his keep.

At least he now knew where to look in the future.

And thank God Staegyl still owned his beloved stomping grounds in contemporary times or all this would have been for nought.

A deep breath of relief fell from Zerek's mouth.

Unfortunately, the tension it should have alleviated remained, the hairs at his nape standing on end for the second time within hours. But unlike before, he now realized it was not slayer energy he detected but dragon. Roman dragon to be exact. The vibration drummed at a familiar frequency, the waves of energy pricking at his core.

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the castle's stone fa?ade.

A myriad of memories flashed through Zerek's mind, the reel of faces and events recalling every Roman dragon he'd ever met as well as those that they'd met, and so forth. No specific identity stood out.

Crap.

The invading dragon's cloaking abilities were greater than his powers to decipher it. Being up against an enemy he couldn't fully detect was not a good thing, especially since this hadn't happened the last time he'd returned to Culloden. Time had been altered, despite his best efforts not to disturb anything major.

He stared into the woods.

A jolt rocked the ground, the world blurring around him.

The hours shifted. Morning pushed to afternoon with great speed.

Zerek gripped the stone behind him, his heart beating at an erratic pace. His breath stilled.

In a flash, rain poured like a flood from the sky, washing away the blur and replacing it with clearly visible trees, lawns, and the like.

He sucked in a deep gulp of air.

The woods to his right no longer bore the essence of dragon, their drenched trees and earth retaining only the vibration of nature. Dabraxas, along with the invading dragon he could not identify, had left the area.

Volleys of musket firings erupted in the distance.

The battle.

Holy hell, but nearly a whole day's hours had been stolen from him with time's little hiccup.

The sigils.

Gripping his dagger tighter, Zerek dashed for the woods, zigging between trees and brush. His breath came in quick pants.

At a small clearing bearing a patch of recently disturbed ground, he crashed to his knees. Ferociously he dug through the dirt, the pads of fingers scraping several layers until they reached smooth metal.

He brushed the surface clean, then hauled up the small safe box, freeing it from the pit Dabraxas had dug. A large lock secured it.

Zerek cursed. Flipping his knife he smashed its grip against the metal latch, breaking the loop in half. He lifted the box lid.

A hollow space stared back at him.

Bloody hell.

A musket fired.

But this one didn't come from the distance, but rather within the cloaked vicinity of Staegylken Keep.

He dashed for cover behind a standing stone.

A second volley shot off.

Searing pain ravaged Zerek's left arm. He bit down on his bottom lip, forced the scream in his throat to die. He hadn't come this far to give himself away.

Scanning the vicinity, his senses searched for a breach in Staegyl's cloaking spell but found none. Nor did he detect Dabraxas. And no way was his shooter Staegyl as the dragon's massive claws were more likely to crush a rifle than fire it. The intruding dragon had to be immensely powerful to penetrate the cloaking spell surrounding Staegyl's keep.

Fuck. Being up against an undetectable enemy was not what he needed now.

The ground shook.

Zerek's vision blurred.

Something was off and not just a mere little blip in time, but something far more substantial as hours did not simply rush forward.

In a blink, his clear vision returned. But the cloudy daylight hadn't. Darkness now blanketed the sky, a slice of moonlight his only light.

He glanced down at his arm and inspected the wound. The musket had gone clear through, leaving him with far less of a danger than if it had lodged in muscle or bone. Not that it wouldn't still fester, but he could deal with that.

A simper of grief edged the deepest recesses of his mind.

Craignamore.

He was on his feet and running, his only concern being Rylie.