Page 25 of Randall
“The king…” The men murmured amongst themselves. Slowly, the men settled and dismounted from their horses.
“You’ve pushed your mounts hard,” Darvon said, dropping his arms, allowing the leaves and dirt to drift to the ground. He stepped forward. “Let me care for them.”
The tallest and broadest of the men took a few steps closer, holding tight to the reins of his horse as he neared. The man’s gaze roamed Darvon from head to toe before stopping to stare at his face. “I’ve never met one of the Fae before. I thought the king had banned the Fae from his court.”
Darvon snickered. “That was my brother, but he’s been forgiven.”
“There is trouble afoot in the kingdom, and His Majesty needs the help of all his people, the Fae included,” Randall interjected. “You were running from something…?”
“We were racing to tell the king. Something attacked us. We think it was the dragons. One followed us.”
Flynn sneezed and shook his head and body. He glanced at Darvon and Randall and then at the men. Darvon held up a hand to keep the man from speaking as he knelt. Flynn knocked his head lightly against Darvon’s. Randall’s hand touched Darvon’s neck, and a connection opened between them.
‘They're exhausted, and the horses need tending. Take them to the river. I’ll scout ahead.’
‘Are you sure?’Darvon sent, sinking his fingers into his mate’s soft fur. Flynn purred. ‘Alright. Be careful.’
‘Of course.’Flynn licked Darvon’s nose before he scampered away, dashing into the woods and disappearing into the thick brush.
Randall twirled a finger, and three ravens flew back the way the men had come. Three more took off toward the capital. “I’m starting to think we should wait for the others.”
“There’s more of you coming? Thank the gods.”
Darvon harrumphed and then laughed at himself. He doubted he should be thanking the gods for anything at the moment since it was a mysterious goddess who’d gotten them into this mess. Then again, if it wasn’t for Fate, and this particular set of circumstances, he wondered if he might never have met Randall and Flynn.
Chapter 17
Flynn
As he ran through the woods, Flynn marveled at how much his life had changed over the last few days. Scared, he’d run. Frightened, he’d hid. Afraid, he’d taken to the river and barely survived the churning, icy swirls of fast-running water. He mourned the loss of his people, especially his master, who had taken him in as a child when he showed promise. His parents had feared his bright mind and eager childish attempts to heal all the animals, but his master, the village healer and shaman, saw something in him that proved promising.
He’d excelled in the rudimentary teachings of earth magick, staying focused on herbs and simple spells that aided in healing and fertility. None of those skills would bring back his parents, his master, his clan…
There had been a moment when he thought to let go of the log, to let the river take him, to sink beneath the snow-melted water. As he floated in that stupefied haze, a vision overtook him. Two men, who he now knew were Randall and Darvon,stood together, extending their hands to him, their eyes bright and eager.
He came to spitting up water, tangled in a thicket of accumulated brush along the riverside. He scrambled out of the water and snagged the fish that the brambles had also trapped. Flynn shredded the scales, choking down the raw fish, all the while praising the goddess for providing when he needed it most, and not just for the food. Two someones waited for him. He had to reach them. Fate had another path for him…
If only his people hadn't had to perish.
As he jumped over a fallen log, scouting as he’d said he would, he quietly mewled, singing his clan's mourning dirge in his mind.
The calls of the forest animals around him grew louder. Flynn slowed, listening to their bitter tirade. Something had invaded their woodland shelter, something big. Predatory. A loud, huffing groan pulled Flynn up short. He froze, his tail still except for the tip; his ears swiveling and whiskers twitching as he attempted to locate where the sound had come from.
Another stifled groan carried from some place in front and to the left of him. Flynn slunk silently from the deer path into the underbrush. He suspected it might be the dragon, and although he had an idea in his head about how big it would be, when he peeked through the foliage, he was still shocked by the size of the creature. Green-grey scales shimmered in the shafts of light that squeezed their way through the treetops.
“Go away.”
The low, grumbled voice startled Flynn. He backtracked a few steps, lowering his belly to the ground.
“I said… Go. Away.”
Flynn’s eyes popped open. The dragon had spoken. He’d never heard of a shifter who could speak in his animal form. Another deep rumbling moan, followed by a wet, hacking cough,prompted Flynn to cast aside his worries for himself. He circled around so he could approach the dragon where the beast could see him.
“A cat,” the dragon chuckled, squinting. The light laughter choked off into another pained groan. “Fuck. How do I always manage to get myself into these messes?” He rolled, appearing to Flynn as if he was going to get up, but then collapsed again. “I don’t suppose you could run and get help? Oh, what the hell am I doing? Talking to a cat like it’s going to answer.” The dragon closed his eyes and sighed.
Flynn shifted, slipped forward, and knelt several feet away from the dragon, afraid to touch him, although he really wanted to feel if the scales were as smooth as they looked. He ran a critical eye over the dragon and spotted the burned and oozing wound along his side, covered by a sharp-taloned claw, and made the decision that he should try to help. His gut and intuition, maybe a little bit because his mates had mentioned a dragon, told him this wounded shifter was important to their cause.
“This cat can talk,” Flynn whispered, holding himself very still as the dragon blinked.
