The Draykon Series (1-3)

Lokant: Chapter Thirty-Five

'Stop it,' he managed. 'Leave me - be -' Rufin swore again and backed away. Whatever Pensould was doing escaped him, but that he meant to help Ynara and Llandry was sufficient. Aysun endured.

'Enough,' gasped Pensould at last. The dragging sensation stopped and the terrible grip on his wrist eased. Aysun tried to get to his feet, but his legs gave way and he dropped.

Rufin caught him and hauled him up. 'There there, old man. You're all right.'

Was he? It was hard to tell. He was still breathing, at any rate. That was a good start.

Pensould, however, looked ready to die where he sat. If he had been exhausted before, he now looked... there wasn't a word for it. For an instant Aysun feared he was dead, but his chest still rose and fell.

Then his eyes opened and he actually smiled.

'Look,' he said, his eyes moving to Llandry's face.

Aysun looked. She still lay unmoving. He tried to convince himself that her face held more colour, but he couldn't really see any difference. And Ynara was the same.

'What?'

'They're stabilising. Energy regenerating... faster.'

'You're using yourself up,' Aysun said bluntly. 'You'd better stop. It's not helping.'

'My fault,' whispered Pensould. 'I woke them up. Never meant for her to be hurt. Either of them. I have to... fix it...' His eyes glazed over and his body swayed.

'You might want to lie down -' Aysun made a lunge for him, or tried to, but his weakened body didn't react. Pensould slithered out of his chair onto the floor and passed out.

Rufin swore, using all his best curse-words. 'Something wrong with the air in here or what?' He laid Aysun on the floor and stuffed a jacket under his head. 'Sorry, man. I'm getting out of here before I, too, pull a pansy fainting routine.' Aysun distantly heard the door open and shut and Rufin's heavy booted tread faded down the corridor.

Sleeping was such a wonderful idea. He couldn't think of a better one just then, so he slept.

***

Avane Desandry's house was small and unimpressive. Limbane hastened up to her front door, feeling harried and grouchy. It had taken far too long to find his way through this realm's muddle of bureaucracy to learn her address. He didn't know how Krays had discovered the identities of the other two draykoni hereditaries, but the rogue Lokant had been ahead of Limbane every step of the way so far. Limbane had worked fast, but he feared he hadn't been fast enough.

He looked for a doorbell but there wasn't one, only a simple doorknocker. He lifted it and tapped sharply on the door, waited some minutes then tapped again. No sounds of life reached his ears, and he could sense no movement from within.

Curse you, Krays. He traipsed to the back of the house, secreting himself in an out-of-sight corner. Then he translocated himself past the walls.

Nobody was inside the house, as he expected. Nor had anybody been home in a while. The house held that hush that descends after days of inactivity. Worse, there were signs that Avane's departure hadn't been planned.

So: both the hereditaries besides Llandry were taken. He'd made a guess at Krays's intentions for them, but the rogue Lokant's ruthlessness could still surprise him. What might the man do with two - or three - draykoni shape shifters?

And this one had a child, presumably taken along with its mother.

Leaving the house by the same means, he crossed to the neighbouring property and knocked on the door. It was quickly answered by a middle-aged woman who stared at Limbane suspiciously.