her fingers, she watched the raven stretch upward and reshape into the tall, slender frame of Morgan.
“If you wanted Elam’s blood,” Naamah said, “why didn’t you just take it from him instead of holding him prisoner?”
Morgan shook her hair back behind her shoulders. “I already told you. It’s not his blood I want. He will just provide the way to get Sapphira’s.”
“But why don’t you just get Anak to kill her? He’s expendable.”
“Because he is not able to kill her. Lucifer’s spies learned that an oracle of fire cannot be murdered unless she is betrayed by someone she loves. Sapphira didn’t speak up for Acacia when she took the bread, so Acacia lost her protection.”
Naamah smiled and winked. “So you have to get Sapphira and Elam to fall in love?”
“No. Romantic feelings have nothing to do with it. We need absolute trust and sacrifice. Only complete trust generates the brutality of real betrayal.”
Naamah knelt at the edge of the trapdoor and gazed into the darkness. “But with Elam down there, how will you get them to love each other like that?”
“When someone eats out of the hands of another, both the giver and the taker trust each other without reservation.” Morgan eased the trapdoor past Naamah’s head and closed it with a loud thud. “Don’t you agree?”
“Yes. I was surprised that you let them get away with that.”
“It’s all part of the plan,” Morgan said as she headed for the exit. “And now we need a singer of dark lyrics to break that trust, little by little.”
Naamah rose and followed her. “Not a problem,” she said, winking again. “The words are already forming in my mind. If this song doesn’t make him doubt, then nothing will.”
Edward sat uneasily on Thigocia’s back, shifting his weight to keep the tough scales from pinching him. To his right, his friend Newman sat on Makaidos, looking even more uncomfortable as he adjusted his breeches while balancing his body with his shield. To his left, four other dragons waited, three of them with riders who sat tall and motionless, the trio of elderly warriors that Makaidos had brought out of retirement.
In the distance, a blanket of mist shrouded a huge swamp, and a high mound protruded from the waters like a swollen womb. A small building sat on top, a humble, thatched-roof house of worship with a rugged, stone bell tower at the front. Far to the left, a smaller hill rose above the swamp, its western slope stretching to the mainland. Weary Hill, they called it, the resting spot for Joseph of Arimathea after his long journey from Jerusalem. The bridge that once spanned the two hills was gone, destroyed by the invaders, and wood fragments still floated about the swamp, occasionally washing to shore.
The mist hovered in place, not a breath of wind to stir it, a perfect shield for the enemy troops that might approach again from the north. Edward nodded toward the water’s edge. “Newman, stop pulling on your pants. The king’s coming.”
King Arthur marched toward the line of dragons, his sword and shield in hand. He stopped in front of Makaidos and bowed. “Your presence is most welcome, King of the Dragons.” As his eyes met those of the aged warriors, he smiled. “I recognize these human heroes of my childhood, but please tell me the names of your dragon soldiers so that I may properly address them in battle.”
Makaidos nodded toward the others. “In order from your left to your right, the king has at his service, Thigocia, my mate; Valcor and Hartanna, twins born to us since my arrival here; Legossi, a daughter of Maven; and finally, Clefspeare, Goliath’s and Roxil’s only son.” Each dragon bowed in turn.
“Greetings, noble dragons, and welcome.” Leaning over, Arthur sketched a map in the drying mud with his sword. “Sir Devin’s scout tells us that the Saxons are massing behind the great tor, and they seem to be migrating toward Weary Hill.” With rapid strokes, the king drew a credible likeness of the two hills and the surrounding swamp. “We will counter them here,” he said, stabbing one side of Weary Hill.
Sir Devin pointed at the map with his own sword. “But wouldn’t that open up our flank to a water passage between the hills?”
Arthur scratched a line next to Devin’s blade. “The dragons will be able to sense any approach, so they will guard that side.”
“Your Majesty,” Devin said, sliding his sword back into its scabbard, “I beg you to fortify