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First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,
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Copyright © Claire Delacroix, Inc., 2010
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ISBN: 9781101457030
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I
Summer Solstice
June 2010
It was time.
Erik Sorensson, leader of the Pyr , waited at the standing stones of Callanish, as agreed. It was close to midnight, the sky filled with dark clouds and the wind chilly off the Atlantic.
He waited alone. He leaned against the tallest stone, the one that might have been a finger pointing to the heavens, and listened.
Erik had no doubt that the Dragonâs Teeth Warriors would keep to their commanderâs agreement. They were ancient, these warriors, remnants of a time long before his own. Erik was old, but the Dragonâs Teeth Warriors were far, far older.
So much older that they were almost incomprehensible to him. He wondered what they wanted of him.
He expected it was permission.
But for what? He needed every talon in this fight against the Slayers , and was impatient to have the Dragonâs Teeth Warriors committed to his ranks. He knew they had endured a great trauma and wanted to give them time.
The problem was that Erik didnât have a lot of time.
He hoped they requested something he could grant.
Erik sensed the Dragonâs Teeth Warriors before he saw them. They had no scent, these ancient warriors. His awareness of their arrival was more a prickling at the edge of his thoughts, more a manifestation of his gift of foresight than the raw ability to smell his fellows.
Erik scanned the eastern sky and saw their silhouettes appearing through the clouds. The moonlight touched their dark figures, painting them with silver as if they came from a dream.
In a way, they did, having been awakened after centuries of spellbound sleep.
As always, the