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“No.” Lucas smiled benevolently. “Prime Castors only. Thank you though.”
“Fine!” Salem threw his hands up in the air. “Everyone out.”
When they were gone, Garrick looked at Lucas and opened his mouth to speak but stopped when Lucas put his finger to his lips for quiet. He muttered an incantation with the use of two powders from his pouches. “The room is sealed,” he confirmed.
“What are we doing?” Garrick asked inquiringly. “This is rather dramatic, is it not?”
“We are going to pray.”
“What?” Garrick knew he looked as surprised as he felt. “To who?”
“Velvore,” Lucas told him as he kneeled on the floor. “Kneel,” he told Garrick.
“Why,” Garrick asked as he lowered himself to the floor, “am I praying to an Ancient?”
“Because he may guide us to Cord.”
“Why?” Garrick asked again impatiently.
“Because your Castor bears a Mark that belongs to an Ancient.”
Garrick’s mouth dropped open. Lucas looked at him and nodded. “No one else can know. But if anything is going to tell us where Cord is, hopefully the Ancient who has blessed him can.” Lucas dropped his head. “Come, Garrick, we need to take Reflection.”
Garrick automatically dropped his head into the subservient pose, but before he closed his eyes, he glanced at Lucas. “When this is over, you and I are going to have a very,verylong talk.”
Lucas smiled despite himself, and then he cleared his head as he prayed to the Ancient for guidance.
Cord looked at Tegan as he made his way to her. She was fighting off three Drakhyn, and she was doing well, but she could not see the fourth one coming at her from behind. Sloane was fighting at his side, protecting them both as they advanced on Cord’s mate. Cord needed a weapon, and seeing a fallen Elite, he stopped quickly as he gathered her weapons for himself.
Sloane, seeing his brother was now armed, moved his assault to the aid of the other Elites who were under attack.
“Tell me there are more of you coming?” one of them shouted to Sloane. He shook his head as he swiped his sword across the abdomen of a Drakhyn. “Son of a Drakhyn,” the Elite growled, but she saw Cord and grinned. “Well, we are not completely lost.”
Cord did not hear the exchange. Tegan stumbled as two Drakhyn launched themselves at her as one. Fight scenes in movies had it wrong. The bad guys didn’t wait patiently for their turn to best their opponent and fight one on one. No. In reality they swarmed their enemy as one and overwhelmed them, sometimes simply by sheer numbers.
“Cord!” Tegan felt the relief at seeing him rush through her. “My leg.”
Cord glanced at her leg and saw in the darkness the darker patch on her pant leg glistening. “I told you that you shouldn’t do this,” he growled at her as he sliced through a Drakhyn’s throat. “In the name of Harrian, how many of these cursed things are there?” he growled as he sliced his way through another.
“Too many,” Tegan answered him grimly. “It’s a trap.”
“Tell me later,” Cord instructed as he ducked a swipe of talons. The Drakhyn were faster than he had encountered before, and they were more focused. He noticed that they were not trying to kill the Elite, merely unarm and debilitate them. His attention was caught by the pale figure of Talia Holt, who stood aside, a gleeful look on her face as she watched the carnage unfold. The Drakhyn were trying not to maim the Elite too much, but the same could not be said of the female Akrhyn, who were intent on killing all the Drakhyn.
Two were in their wolf form, with only Tegan and Tove still in Akrhyn form. Tove looked as if she had almost fallen, her head and arms had blood pouring from wounds, but still she fought on.
Sloane cursed, but Cord could not afford to turn to see if his brother was alright, for his little tiger was almost within reach. Finally, with a fake strike to the Drakhyn, Cord slipped under its outstretched reach and rolled up on his feet beside Tegan.
“Do not dare take me out of this,” Tegan warned him as she advanced on a Drakhyn, both her swords blurring with the speed with which she was using them.
“You called me here.” Cord grunted as he took a blow to the back. “Why else if not to aid you?”
“Tove, I think it is her they want,” Tegan panted as she narrowly missed a strike from a Drakhyn. “Take Tove and the others.”
If Cord had not been fighting two Drakhyn with a fallen Elite Sentinel’s weapons, he would have looked at her in shock. “I am not a portal service; I take you and Sloane.”
“Save Tove, Castor. Or I will kill you myself.” Tegan glared at him before she cried out when a Drakhyn talon sliced her upper arm. “Harrian’s teeth, that hurt,” she hissed.
“I will throttle you one of these days,” Cord warned her as he finally saw the opening he needed for the Drakhyn, and his sword slid into its belly. As it was impaled on his sword, he thrust it in deeper as his knife slid smoothly across its throat.
