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  The firestorm was right, and she was going to prove it to Thorolf.

  She spared a glance to his still figure and hoped she had the chance.

  She sat down, with her palms together and the soles of her boots pressed together. She breathed slowly and evenly, conjuring the magic she knew best. She envisioned the rune Berkana, carved into the arrow head she’d left in Thorolf’s mouth. She envisioned the rune Eihwaz, carved into the arrow head she’d jammed beneath Chen’s scales. She breathed power into both of them, slowly and deeply, calling to the runes to answer her.

  Chandra smiled when Chen winced and his breathing faltered.

  There was a strange flicker of light on the far side of the lair, a blue-green light that licked a large oval stone from the underside. Chandra hadn’t noticed the stone before, but the light drew her attention to it.

  It was shaped like a large egg, but the texture of the stone made it look like it had a wrinkled shell. The light flicked once, quickly, then faded.

  Chen surveyed the lair, his suspicion clear. Had he sensed the light? Had he seen it? Was it important somehow? Chandra had to think it was a sign of some kind. It’s blue-green color was unusual, and she wondered about darkfire.

  She had to concentrate on the magic she knew, though. Chandra called to the rune hidden in Thorolf’s mouth once more, putting all her will into the summons.

  Thorolf shifted back to dragon form, making the old Slayer turn to stare at him.

  The blue-green light licked the surface of that egg-shaped stone again, illuminating it like a flash of lightning. For a second, it seemed to be lit from within and Chandra thought she saw a dragon trapped inside the stone.

  Then it looked like a rock again.

  Chen’s head swiveled toward the egg, his concern clear. It had to be darkfire, then, the force of unpredictability. Chandra chose to be encouraged by its presence.

  She called to the rune beneath Chen’s scales. Chen winced again, then shuddered. He scrabbled with one claw as if to scratch his underside, but Chandra willed the arrow head to move deeper into his body. There was no mistaking his grimace then, but she hid her pleasure.

  Chen looked around the lair once more, then put down his chin. His eyes glowed through the slits of his half-closed lids as he began to breathe slowly and regularly.

  He was probably breathing dragonsmoke.

  He was probably buttressing a spell.

  He wasn’t the only one. Chandra hadn’t lost all of her powers yet, and she’d willingly use them up to see her favorite Pyr free of this place.

  * * *

  Thorolf dreamed.

  He was crashed on his back, hurting from head to toe, struggling to catch his breath. His skin burned painfully but he could feel the heat of the firestorm. He was glad and not just because its caress drove back the pain. Its silvery radiance, visible even through his eyelids, meant he wasn’t alone.

  And that they were back in Myth.

  “One of these times, you will kill me,” he muttered, complaining but not really. He was getting used to having Chandra around.

  She leaned over him, her hair falling on his chest. He opened his eyes again to find her smiling down at him. “Don’t tempt me.”

  Her hair was chestnut this time, wavy and falling just past her shoulders. She was wearing a crimson dress that laced across the bodice and a white blouse beneath it, but similar tall boots. He could feel them through the cloth, and guessed that she was always ready to fight. The idea that she’d never really be a damsel in distress made him smile.

  He eyed her, then asked what he wanted most to know. “Why did you choose me?”

  She sighed and laid down beside him on her back, frowning at the star-studded sky. Thorolf impulsively reached over and took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. The firestorm’s heat pulsed through him, drawing them into that beguiling union when their breathing and heartbeats matched. Thorolf closed his eyes, intoxicated with the sensation.

  There was something so good about being with her, something so right. Thorolf had to make this work.

  He had to undertake her mission.

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Chandra admitted and Thorolf chuckled at the humor in her voice.

  “Why?” When she looked at him, he held her gaze. “Seriously.”

  She sat up again, bracing herself on her elbow and leaning over him. Thorolf didn’t let go of her hand. He wanted to be connected to her like this forever. “In every culture, there are myths,” she said. “And every culture creates myths that echo the reality that surrounds them.”

  “To explain it.”

  She nodded. “So, while the myths are specific to a place and a people, they have common elements. Maybe we could call them human concerns.”

  “There are always gods,” Thorolf guessed.

  Chandra nodded. “There is always something or someone greater than humans, something or someone with the power to be unseen or to influence events. These divinities may have control over life and death, or they might influence wherever it is that people’s souls go when the physical body dies. Death, and what happens after it, is always a concern, maybe the human concern.” She fell silent, drumming her fingers on his chest. Her touch sent a staccato of desire through him, each tap making him want her more.

  Thorolf waited while she chose her words.

  She met his gaze and he noted that her eyes were brown this time, brown with a circle of gold around the iris. “In every culture, there is a concept of evil, of some wicked force against humans. In the west, it’s often presented as a dragon. As a result, in every culture, there is an archetypal hero.” She smiled. “A dragon slayer, to defend humans and defeat evil so that peace and justice can reign.”

  “And that’s where I come into it?”

  “If you’re going to pick a dragon slayer, I think it makes sense to pick one who can fight fire with fire,” she said, her eyes glowing. Her fingertips slid down his chest, creating a burning line of desire. Thorolf guessed her destination when her fingers passed his waist. “I think you should pick the strongest and most resilient of all the candidates, the one who comes from a lineage of noble and principled warriors, the one who carries all the traits of a hero in his heart, mind and body.”

  “But I had just been born when you chose me.”

  Chandra shook her head. “No, I chose you long before that.”

  “How could you know?”

  “There was a time when I could see past, present and some of the future. There was a time when I saw the man you would become, even when you were just a gleam in your father’s eye. In the spark of his firestorm, I saw his son, and I knew that you were the one.”

  Thorolf winced. “I wish you wouldn’t say that.”

  “But it’s true. You are the one. You are the only one who can do this.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then the Pyr and the world won’t be saved.”

  “And if I fail?”

  She shrugged, her gaze holding his steadily. “I don’t think you’ll fail. I chose you, after all.”

  He thought of what she’d said and wondered why he’d fought this for so long. It was just a task. If he’d been chosen, it must be one that he could do. And the fact was that loving Chandra made him want to accomplish more with his life.

  He wanted her to have a good reason to choose to be with him.

  “You said there was a time,” he said, recalling her words. “Does that mean you can’t do it anymore?”

  She nodded, a sadness touching her features.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s time for the gods to leave the mortal world behind forever.”

  “But you’re Vanir,” he protested, hating the idea of losing her.

  Chandra shook her head. “Not any more.” She smiled. “I decided not to go.”

  He stared at her, awed that she would make this choice.

  For him.

  For the firestorm.

  “Al
l eras end, Thorolf.” Chandra tapped a finger on his chest again, the firestorm’s sparks nearly stopping his heart. “Like it or not, it’s up to you to make sure this one ends right.”

  And there it was: the responsibility he wouldn’t deny any longer, and the reward of the firestorm. Thorolf knew then, right to his heart and soul, what he had to do.

  His father and Chandra had been right all along.

  All he had to do was believe in the firestorm and himself.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nobody said that succeeding at this challenge would be easy, though. Thorolf exhaled as he thought of all the forms Chen could take. Then there was Jorge, whatever had happened to him, and a host of other candidates for the source of all wickedness in the world. Now that he’d decided to take on the task, he needed a plan.

  He could learn from her, planning ahead instead of charging it and dealing with whatever resulted.

  He closed his hand over hers. “Which exactly is the monster I’m supposed to slay?”

  “All evil draws from one source,” Chandra said. “Strike at the heart and stop it where it begins.”

  “I’m going to guess that’s not too easy.”

  She smiled. “No challenge worth winning is easy.”

  Their gazes locked and held for an electric moment. Did she think he was a challenge worth the fight? Thorolf hoped so.

  “We’re in the right place. That’s a good start.” Chandra touched her lips to his, making him groan with desire.

  He tried to roll her to her back and deepen the kiss, but she slipped from beneath him. “We could just draw some power from the firestorm,” he suggested.

  “No time,” she said and got to her feet. She offered him a hand. “The hunt is already on.”

  “Any hints? How will I recognize the root of all evil?”

  Chandra bit her lip, drawing his gaze to its ripeness. “I’ll guess that we’ll be working in the myths of your heritage.”

  “Ragnorak?”

  “It’s already started to snow heavily in much of the world.”

  “Fimbulvetr,” Thorolf muttered. “The mighty winter.”

  “The moon has devoured the sun.”

  “The total eclipse.” Thorolf got to his feet, his determination growing as he recognized the signs.

  “Nidhug, the dragon chewing beneath the world tree Yggdrasil, will finally bite through its roots and sever the connection between the natural world and its people.”

  “That would be Chen, I’ll guess.”

  “There have been tidal waves and earthquakes, which are supposed to foretell the end times.”

  “Because Jormungand has been roused from the bottom of the ocean for the battle at the end of the world. He’s thrashing in the seas, making the tidal waves and earthquakes.” Thorolf pushed his hand through his hair as he recalled the rest of the story. He remembered these stories of the end times all too well.

  Then he thought about the implications of Chandra’s choice. “Will this make you mortal?” He paused then asked what he really wanted to know. “Does this mean you’ll be able to have my son?”

  Chandra’s quick smile making his heart leap. “I know of one good way to find out.” Her eyes sparkled as she considered him. “You’ve convinced me that I’ve kept this vow of chastity long enough.”

  Thorolf caught her up in his arms and kissed her thoroughly, loving how she gripped his hair in her hands and kissed him back. The firestorm surged through him, driving Chen’s poison from his body and filling him with a silvery fire of purpose.

  Chandra broke their kiss but smiled down at him, a sensual promise in her eyes. “Maybe fighting for the chance to satisfy your firestorm is the cause you always needed.”

  “No doubt about it,” Thorolf agreed, then he grimaced. “The Midgard Serpent is at the bottom of the sea, right?”

  Chandra nodded. “So?”

  “This is probably a bad time to admit that I can’t swim.”

  She rapped him on the end of the nose with a playful fingertip. “But an excellent time to learn.”

  Before he could protest that it wasn’t that simple, she broke from his embrace and marched away with purpose. “You’ll need your sword!” she called over her shoulder.

  Thorolf grimaced. “That’s the thing. It’s gone forever.”

  Chandra’s backward glance was scornful. “Nothing so powerful is ever gone forever.”

  “I don’t need a sword…”

  She spun to face him, her expression resolute. “Trust me on this. You do not want to bite this viper, even in dragon form. He’s toxic, through and through. This is Myth. This is my turf and I know the rules better than you. Trust me.”

  “Okay. I do,” Thorolf said, and meant it.

  Chandra folded her arms across her chest and they faced each other toe-to-toe. Even faced with the challenge ahead, Thorolf felt jubilant. They were going to make an incredible team.

  “We need the sword,” she reiterated.

  “Then let’s find it,” he replied with resolve and seized her hand. “Come on, let’s do this thing already.”

  * * *

  Marco was late.

  He knew it because the darkfire was crackling with new vigor within the quartz crystal, as if impatient for him to finish what had been started. He surrendered his will to the power trapped in the stone, letting it do with him as it would.

  There was no fighting darkfire.

  It flashed brilliantly, so bright that he closed his eyes against the light. When he opened them, he was in a cavern, one lit by flaming torches that sent dark smoke against the high ceiling. He glimpsed the back of a dragon that could only be Chen, and not that far away. He felt the icy burn of dragonsmoke and knew he couldn’t linger in this place. He was hidden behind a large oval stone, one that seemed to him to have power.

  The stone throbbed in his hand, and he understood that it wanted to be broken. He knew the darkfire desired release, and he hesitated only for a second before complying.

  This was the destiny of the third crystal.

  He cracked the stone in half.

  The darkfire leapt toward the oval rock, its blue-green light illuminating its wrinkled surface.

  Chen caught his breath and turned just as the light faded away.

  But Marco felt a pulse begin within the stone. Maybe it had been there all along, too faint to be discerned, but now it grew in power with every beat. He smelled Pyr, as well, a faint scent that he was sure was coming from inside the rock. He had time to run his hands over the stone in awe then the darkfire glittered again and flung him on his way.

  He opened his eyes warily to find himself in a bustling market, surrounded by humans. He’d appeared in the shadows of a deserted stall and only a parrot in a cage had taken notice of his arrival.

  He’d wait here for whatever happened next.

  * * *

  “Neither rain nor snow nor dark of night,” Delaney muttered, as he flew through an apparently endless storm with Brandon. The wind was fierce and the seas tossed violently beneath them. The skies were filled with dark clouds, and lightning shot between them at intervals. They’d flown higher to avoid rain and lower to avoid the wind. They’d flown over the ocean and over islands, the lights of human habitation far beneath them.

  The good thing was that in this weather, there would be no one to beguile into believing they hadn’t seen dragons overhead. The Pyr regularly passed the weight of the sword between them, each taking a break from the burden. It hadn’t seemed heavy at the start, but with each mile, its burden seemed to grow.

  The journey had improved after they’d left Brandt’s lair in Australia as then they’d only had the sword to carry. Liz and the boys had remained with Brandt and Kay by previous arrangement. Erik had been clearly exhausted, that it hadn’t taken much to convince him to remain in Australia as another Pyr to defend Brandt’s lair.

  It had been tougher for Delaney to convince Ginger to remain there, because she didn’t want to mis
s anything. He and Brandon were making much better time, even though it had to be the foulest weather Delaney had ever seen.

  And it kept getting worse.

  Delaney wasn’t going to think about Chen calling out the elements to keep the blade from ever reaching Thorolf.

  “We’re not exactly the post,” Brandon replied.

  “Couriers, then.”

  “Special delivery.”

  “Very special delivery,” Delaney replied and they chuckled together. It helped when they joked back and forth a bit. The conversation took Delaney’s mind off his aching wings.

  And his fear that they’d be too late. He scanned the churning seas below, wishing he recognized some island beneath them. Brandon flew confidently, certain of his direction.

  “We have to be getting close,” Delaney said.

  “Borneo, coming up,” Brandon said. “Pretty much halfway.”

  “Finally!”

  “Look at the bright side. At least we haven’t had to fight in this weather.” As if Brandon’s words had conjured an opponent, the silhouette of another dragon appeared against the clouds ahead of them.

  Delaney caught his breath and inhaled the scent of the approaching Pyr. “Sloane,” he said with relief, seeing then the lightning touch the Apothecary’s tourmaline scales.

  “And Rafferty,” Brandon agreed. “I can’t see him though.”

  “He must be in his salamander form.”

  “Excellent.” Brandon grinned. “Something tells me this sword is on its way to wherever Thorolf is.”

  * * *

  Thorolf’s eyelids fluttered and his skin burned. He grimaced as he opened his eyes, hating that the firestorm was the barest flicker of heat. It was golden, though, as golden as a sunrise, and not completely extinguished.

  He’d take encouragement where he could.

  He was in a cavern, one that looked familiar. He was in the midst of a spiral burned into the cavern floor and he wasn’t alone. He saw the dead dragon in the spiral alongside him, just as he had been when last Thorolf had been in this place.

  JP. It was JP.

  And it wasn’t all bad for there to be one less Slayer in the world.