as she walked briskly toward the psychiatric unit, whether I complete this fellowship isn’t even marginally important. I can always show up from my few days’ vacation, give them thirty days’ notice and quit.
Chapter Eight
Lachlan sank back against the cramped seats in Maggie’s car. At first he warded himself, and then he extended his enchantment to include the car, casting a don’t look here spell. He’d have to keep an eye out for Maggie’s return. If he didn’t loosen his spell, she might think her car had been nabbed.
“We must find the other dragons. My kin who were forced to return to Fire Mountain,” Kheladin said, his voice a quiet rumble in Lachlan’s mind.
“I agree. There are other tasks that take precedence, though. Ye heard the discussion with Gwydion and Arawn.”
“Aye, but I dinna agree with much of it.”
Lachlan shook his head. The dragon was willful and headstrong, yet he had a pure heart and a generous soul. “If we canna get this problem with Rhukon, the Morrigan, and the red wyvern—Connor—well in hand, ’twill be nowhere for your kin to return to.”
“Ye could join us at Fire Mountain. Gwydion told us other dragon shifters went there with their dragons.”
Lachlan’s eyes widened. That option hadn’t even occurred to him, though he’d certainly heard what Gwydion had said. While he’d traveled outside the British Isles, so far as he was concerned the Scottish Highlands were his home. Despite their current level of contamination with modernity, he had no desire to leave. Because he didn’t want to hurt Kheladin’s feelings, he said, “Aye, ’tis a possibility. At the verra least, we could plan a visit. Do ye know how to get there?”
A long silence. Lachlan gave the dragon space. When Kheladin finally spoke, he sounded embarrassed. “Not exactly. ’Tis something I should have learned from another dragon, but there are naught left to ask.”
“I’ll speak with the Celts,” Lachlan reassured him. “Mayhap they would be willing to help us get there.”
“Ye willna forget?” Kheladin’s fretful tone didn’t sound at all like him.
“Nay. I promise. If there is a way for us to visit Fire Mountain, I shall do everything in my power to find it.”
Lachlan inhaled through his mouth, tasting the air. It held a metallic undercurrent that stung his nose and dried his throat. Without fully understanding the why of things, he thought about what Gwydion and Arawn had said. The conversation was brief, but they’d hit a few salient points. Water was fast disappearing from many places on Earth; species were dying every day. Manmade chemicals were well on their way to poisoning the oceans and the air. Brighid, Danu, and Ceridwen, most powerful of the Celtic goddesses, were so furious, they’d washed their hands of humans.
Lachlan shook his head. How could things have gone to hell in so little time? Humans had been around for thousands of years. According to Gwydion, it had taken less than a hundred to wreak the current disaster.
’Twas Rhukon’s prodding. And the Morrigan thrives on chaos. Lachlan ground his teeth together. He could just see the two of them chortling with delight over the disaster they’d created.
According to Arawn, humans had welcomed one convenience after another into their lives, apparently not paying one whit of attention that all their labor-saving amenities were destroying their home. Lachlan felt infuriated and incredulous by turns. Had men turned into such stupid fools they would sully the very ether that sustained them? His hands were fisted so tightly they ached. He stretched out his fingers to get circulation back into them and thought about the rest of what the Celts had told him.
With Rhukon and Connor by her side, the Morrigan had been in her element during the various wars riddling Europe, Asia, the States, and the Middle East. Flitting from battle to battle in her crow form, she’d positively glowed as blood dripped from
Chapter Eight
Lachlan sank back against the cramped seats in Maggie’s car. At first he warded himself, and then he extended his enchantment to include the car, casting a don’t look here spell. He’d have to keep an eye out for Maggie’s return. If he didn’t loosen his spell, she might think her car had been nabbed.
“We must find the other dragons. My kin who were forced to return to Fire Mountain,” Kheladin said, his voice a quiet rumble in Lachlan’s mind.
“I agree. There are other tasks that take precedence, though. Ye heard the discussion with Gwydion and Arawn.”
“Aye, but I dinna agree with much of it.”
Lachlan shook his head. The dragon was willful and headstrong, yet he had a pure heart and a generous soul. “If we canna get this problem with Rhukon, the Morrigan, and the red wyvern—Connor—well in hand, ’twill be nowhere for your kin to return to.”
“Ye could join us at Fire Mountain. Gwydion told us other dragon shifters went there with their dragons.”
Lachlan’s eyes widened. That option hadn’t even occurred to him, though he’d certainly heard what Gwydion had said. While he’d traveled outside the British Isles, so far as he was concerned the Scottish Highlands were his home. Despite their current level of contamination with modernity, he had no desire to leave. Because he didn’t want to hurt Kheladin’s feelings, he said, “Aye, ’tis a possibility. At the verra least, we could plan a visit. Do ye know how to get there?”
A long silence. Lachlan gave the dragon space. When Kheladin finally spoke, he sounded embarrassed. “Not exactly. ’Tis something I should have learned from another dragon, but there are naught left to ask.”
“I’ll speak with the Celts,” Lachlan reassured him. “Mayhap they would be willing to help us get there.”
“Ye willna forget?” Kheladin’s fretful tone didn’t sound at all like him.
“Nay. I promise. If there is a way for us to visit Fire Mountain, I shall do everything in my power to find it.”
Lachlan inhaled through his mouth, tasting the air. It held a metallic undercurrent that stung his nose and dried his throat. Without fully understanding the why of things, he thought about what Gwydion and Arawn had said. The conversation was brief, but they’d hit a few salient points. Water was fast disappearing from many places on Earth; species were dying every day. Manmade chemicals were well on their way to poisoning the oceans and the air. Brighid, Danu, and Ceridwen, most powerful of the Celtic goddesses, were so furious, they’d washed their hands of humans.
Lachlan shook his head. How could things have gone to hell in so little time? Humans had been around for thousands of years. According to Gwydion, it had taken less than a hundred to wreak the current disaster.
’Twas Rhukon’s prodding. And the Morrigan thrives on chaos. Lachlan ground his teeth together. He could just see the two of them chortling with delight over the disaster they’d created.
According to Arawn, humans had welcomed one convenience after another into their lives, apparently not paying one whit of attention that all their labor-saving amenities were destroying their home. Lachlan felt infuriated and incredulous by turns. Had men turned into such stupid fools they would sully the very ether that sustained them? His hands were fisted so tightly they ached. He stretched out his fingers to get circulation back into them and thought about the rest of what the Celts had told him.
With Rhukon and Connor by her side, the Morrigan had been in her element during the various wars riddling Europe, Asia, the States, and the Middle East. Flitting from battle to battle in her crow form, she’d positively glowed as blood dripped from
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