He blinked at the explosion of magic and color, and the sleek grace of the huge black predator, tearing across the field.
More men burst over the knoll, pounding onto the battlefield. The sound of Nessa’s laughter carried on the breeze to his right.
Ahead of him, Briana pounced, knocking a man to the ground, her powerful paws incapacitating him. Another leap took a rider from his horse, giving Lucan fewer obstacles to deal with.
Between the gaps of fighting men that separated them, he glimpsed Arthur. Real or not, his friend moved with the same lethal precision that left every man who challenged him dead or dying. The three trying to surround him met with the same fate as the others, before Arthur faced another threat altogether.
Mordred.
Hundreds of years ago Lucan had lost track of Arthur in battle, though he’d sworn when they were barely past boyhood to always have his back. He hadn’t been there when Morgana’s son had somehow gained enough advantage to fatally wound Arthur. Constantine had been the one to find and drag Arthur from the fight, not realizing the extent of his injuries.
Everyone had been so convinced Arthur was invincible that no one had been prepared to deal with the agony he suffered for hours afterward, his screams heard for miles before they lost him.
Lucan searched the swarming bodies for Kel, but couldn’t spot the dragon. Pushing through the men, he used both the axe and Briana’s sword to fight his way to Arthur’s side.
Twice he saw Briana go down beneath Morgana’s men and both times she fought the bastards off, staying close to him.
Bleeding from injuries that didn’t matter, sweat running into his eyes, he hunted for Kel, cutting down every man or gargoyle foolish enough to fight for Morgana who got in his way. By the time he made a path through the last group of warring soldiers, he didn’t have the strength to slip into his phantom body, his body too weak from hunger and injuries slow to heal.
Calling out a warning to Arthur would distract him from his confrontation with Mordred, and Lucan refused to be the reason Arthur lost concentration. Although deadly in his own right, Mordred still wasn’t a match for Arthur. Too quickly Mordred’s movements grew sluggish and clumsy, and he retreated more than he advanced.
Kel stepped into Lucan’s path as Mordred went down, but not before he brought his sword up, slicing deep into Arthur before collapsing.
Kel bolted in front of Lucan, his sword raised.
“No!” There was no time to reach the traitor. No time to prevent the dragon from murdering the king he’d signed the death warrant for centuries ago.
Dodging the thrust of another spear, Lucan delivered a death blow to his latest attacker, stumbling forward as Kel buried his sword in…Mordred’s back. He hadn’t come there to kill Arthur?
Ignoring Kel, Lucan reached Arthur’s side just in time to catch his oldest friend as his legs buckled.
Grabbing his arm, Arthur hissed out a breath. “Always there when I need you, Lance.”
Briana brushed up against him, and he took comfort in her presence.
Frowning, the lines around his eyes marked by pain, Arthur shook his head. “I’m not going to ask how you found yourself here, Lady Briana, but I appreciate the help.”
The cat nudged Lucan’s arm, the feline as confused as the woman no doubt.
“I can tell every one of my warriors in their animal form.” Arthur managed a pained grin, then held out a hand to Kel, who dropped to his knees next to them. “I thought you had abandoned us for a good tumble with that female from the last inn. Should have known you had a plan when you broke formation.”
Kel’s gaze found Lucan’s and the flash of guilt was strong enough to stop him from slaying the dragon on the spot. “I should never have left.”
Arthur coughed, his body racked with shivers. The fever had set in already. “You made it just in time to see me almost fall on my face. Like Lance, here.”
Briana set her paw on Lucan’s knee, and he nodded. “No one has called me that in a very long time.”
Arthur glanced at Kel, looking worried. “Did he take a blow to the head?” He turned back to Lucan. “I called you that only this morning.” He cocked his head, perceptive eyes finally noticing something was off with his men. “Help me up.”
Lucan and Kel exchanged looks. The dragon nodded, but when they tried to move him, Arthur cried out, stopping them.
Kel carefully peeled back the drenched material on Arthur’s chest. “It’s not healing.”
Forcing another grin, Arthur said, “You don’t sound surprised. Mordred’s blade must have been dipped in troll’s blood.”
Neither Lucan nor Kel commented, but the dragon rose to check Mordred’s weapon.
“Worse than that, then?” Arthur blew out a harsh breath, waiting until a wave of pain passed to speak. “Gwen always warned that my stubbornness would be the death of me.” His laugh was choked off by another cough.
Kel walked back toward them, his expression grim. In the distance more of Morgana’s men spotted them. They were running out of time.
Arthur pulled off his arm band, handing it to Lucan. “Give this to Gwen. She’ll take the news better from you.” He knew he was dying.
“No.”
His friend pressed the band into his hand. “Promise me you’ll give it to Gwen. She’ll never handle it coming from anyone else. She loves you, trusts you. You can’t let my death destroy her.”
Lucan’s throat felt like it was on fire. He shook his head, knowing he’d never have the chance to tell Gwen anything. “I can’t—”
“Vow it!” Grip much too strong for someone slipping away right before Lucan’s eyes, Arthur didn’t relax his grip.
Lucan nodded, sinking one hand into the fur on Briana’s back, needing something to hold on to.
“And tell her…” A spasm ripped through Arthur’s body that left him panting. “Tell her that I waited too long to fight for her. My only regret.” His eyes closed, and he forced them back open seconds later. “I’ll find a way to be with her again.”
If anyone could manage such a feat, it would be Arthur. For the first time in a millennia, Lucan wanted to believe that the rebel king would awaken and reclaim Camelot.
“We can’t stay here,” Kel warned, moving to intercept the first of Morgana’s men to reach them. Briana leaped away to take down one of the approaching wolves racing to attack them.
Lucan glanced down at his hand, expecting to see the arm band Arthur had commissioned to match Gwen’s for their wedding, but found a scroll instead. His fingers closed around it and he shoved it into his pocket.
“Lucan!”
Kel’s warning broke through Lucan’s grief, and he turned. Pain ripped through him, and he stared down at the spear that pierced his back and exited through his stomach.
Briana roared, tearing through three men, and then she was at his side, covered in blood and in her human form once more.
“Luc.”
The spear moved, twisting inside him. Dazed and weak, he glanced down to find a vine and not a spear lodged in him. As quickly as it had appeared, the battlefield was gone and they were back in the chamber.
A chamber alive with slithering vines bent on ensnaring everyone.
The painted forest writhed with life, the vines twisting and snaking around the columns, now tree trunks.
Nessa’s head fell forward, her body marked by battle and bleeding cuts from the thorns. On the other side of the chamber, Vaughn eluded the vines in his wolf form, scrambling under the foliage and snapping his jaw at the ropes of vegetation that pursued.
Elena kicked at the one trying to wrap around her ankle, some of the vines catching fire from her magic.
