the knight.
Richard gave no ground, conviction burning inside.
“Ye reek of loss, of uncertainty,” Latobius growled in his new form, his massive head mere feet from Richard. “Ye care nothing for anyone, or the world. Why ye are here at all is an enigma.”
Richard said nothing, unfaltering before obvious danger.
“Those who have nothing to lose make unwise and poor leaders,” Latobius said.
“You do not know me,” Richard challenged. “Nor my reasons for being here.”
Muscles rippling in his dragon chest and neck, Latobius fixed his gaze on Bran. “And untested as a new faun, this one,” Latobius snorted. The dragon returned to Richard. “Ye are an affront to me, to my wishes. Permit that I will not. My youngest son dies before me at the hands of war. Only seven decades old, a baby still in many respects. No eggs hatched since his cracked, with none on the horizon. I hurt as he does, yearn for revenge as those of my brethren around me. But I will not risk one more death like this. Too few, we are. To lose even one of us would undo us further.”
“Lord Latobius?”
All eyes turned to Kegan as he dismounted from his Rhedewyr.
“Clurichaun,” Latobius greeted, eyes narrowing. “Yer sadness is written on ye.”
Kegan bowed. “Sad. And true. Days ago I lost my oldest son to the wiles of Caer Llion. Connal was his name, brother to Kearney. Connal was a better son than I had ever hoped to have. He died protecting us in the lower passes, but he died for a cause larger than us. He died to remind us all what the Dark One has planned, and it is our choice if we let that happen.”
Latobius said nothing but watched Kegan closely.
“I tell ye this now not to persuade ye or anger ye further,” Kegan said, eyes shining. “Ye are entitled to your pain. As I am. But I want ye to know some of us have suffered losses at the hands of the evil that expands from Caer Llion. I would do anything to prevent others from feeling this way—from feeling the way ye do right now.”
“The pain in yer voice, clurichaun, I hear,” Latobius said. “Ye have a large heart to share it with me. But sharing will not keep my children safe on a battleground, now will it?”
“But they will come here to kill you,” Richard said angrily.
“Then let them come!” Latobius roared, smoke seething from nostrils. The Rhedewyr and their riders shied. Richard did not move. “Let them come and witness our power!”
“It is best we leave,” Henrick whispered, pulling at the knight.
Richard did not budge, his mind working fast. The meeting with Lord Latobius was on the brink of collapse. To stay meant possible annihilation at the fiery breath of dragonkind; to leave meant failing to return Tal Ebolyon to the Seelie Court. Richard had only one course left him, an admission he hated all the more for having to give it.
The knight called the Dark Thorn and knelt.
The dragons surrounding them watched closely as Richard bowed his head. The silver grains of the staff’s dark wood sparked under the sun and white fire ran its length. Richard stared at the ground, hoping he wasn’t losing his soul for what he was about to say, the conflicting parts of his entire life coming together in one moment that would define him forever.
“I swear an oath of fealty to your people, Lord Latobius,” Richard offered in his loudest, booming voice. “Bring your people to the Seelie Court. Fight Caer Llion with all of your might. Help kill Philip Plantagenet. Send him and his abominations to the lowest pit of the lowest hell. In exchange for your return oath to rejoin the Morrigan, I will walk the ends of Annwn and my own world to find what ails dragonkind and cure it.”
Silence fell over the mountain. Richard kept his head bowed.
He did not get up. “Ye may possess the Thorn, knight,” Latobius said. “But ye have yet to become it.”
“I just did, I think, Lord Latobius.”
Long moments passed. Richard awaited the verdict.
“It changes nothing, Knight of the Yn Ssaith,” Lord Latobius finally said. “I know ye are sincere in yer oath. It is not enough; it is not time. First Son, these guests have outstayed their welcome. The path here has taken a toll, I see. Guide them upon barges to the lowlands where they desire to go. It will aid them in ways I cannot.”
“Yes, Dragonsire,” Saethmoor said.
Anger at his