world
that moved so fast. He‟d been sleeping and dreaming peacefully for fifteen hundred
years, thankful to be away from humans. The last he knew was that Galahad had taken
the Grail and several other relics to Sarras to keep the Saxons from discovering them.
Brighid had told him a group of warrior monks called Templars had rescued the treasure
and returned it to Scotland, but because of unrest there as well, the Sinclair Protector had removed them to a foreign land called America.
He shook his great head, dislodging small fragments of sandstone overhead, and
sighed once more. He had frightened the mortal girl the night before when he‟d followed her home. He had forgotten how humans reacted to his kind. But this one cared for
animals, which wasn‟t unusual considering her real ancestry. Perhaps if she saw more of
him she would lose her fear.
Setlling his massive jaw between his claws and the spiky tip of his tail, he shut his
eyes to nap and plan his strategy.
Seconds later, he opened them wide as the scales on top of his head fanned out in
spears of defense. Another dragon was near.
Brighid had told him no dragons walked the earth any more. Cautiously, he
breathed in the air. It was not that close—perhaps a good twenty leagues away—but he
now recognized the scent.
Sigurd. The damn, white dragon that Hengist and Horsa had brought with them.
They had battled before and Pendragon had ultimately lost when Arthur was killed.
This time, he would win.
SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 22
He had to.
* * * *
Sophie peered out the window of the clinic again. Yep, the reporters were still
there, hovering like vultures waiting for the next kill. She‟d managed to elude them by
retreating to the Palo Pinto County Clinic yesterday, but the AP had gotten wind of the
story and the phone was ringing off the hook. Her vet partner, Allison, needed her back.
With a sigh, she turned back to her computer and Googled “Dragons” once more.
Two days had passed without any return of the dragon—except in that weird
dream she had.
Her cell phone rang again and she groaned. Robert had left at least a dozen voice
mails since the sighting. She glanced at the Caller ID and frowned slightly. Toby Clark.
Of all the reporters, he was the only one who hadn‟t accused her of setting up some sort of publicity stunt for her clinic. She pressed her answer button.
“Hello, Mr. Clark.”
His voice sounded cheerful. “Dr. Cameron? I was wondering if I could do a
human interest story on you?”
“I thought it was the dragon—or whatever it was--everyone was interested in.
Why would you want to do a story on me?”
“The tie-in would be great,” he replied. “You‟re a vet. You heal animals. Maybe
the dragon is ill and needed your help?”
Sophie almost smiled. The dragon—or whatever it was—she was still not to sure
she was ready to accept what should be a myth as reality—certainly had appeared
healthy, if nothing else. “I really think it was just circumstantial that it hovered here.”
“But maybe not. Look, I‟m a rookie at this reporting stuff,” he said with a note of
desperation in his voice. “If you give me an exclusive interview, it would really go a
long way with my boss. Plus, once you‟ve given the story, most of this pack will melt
away.”
Sophie glanced out the window again. That would be a help. Potential adopters
were having a hard time getting past the crowd. “Okay,” she said, “but I can‟t do it for a couple more days. We‟re swamped right now.”
Toby hesitated and she was wondering how insistent he was going to get. He
sounded sweet and nice, but she knew media types were predatory. To her surprise, he
didn‟t argue. Instead, they set a time for Wednesday morning.
She had just turned back to the computer when Janie, their assistant, appeared in
the door. “There‟s a man here to see you,” she said.
“A client?”
“Don‟t
that moved so fast. He‟d been sleeping and dreaming peacefully for fifteen hundred
years, thankful to be away from humans. The last he knew was that Galahad had taken
the Grail and several other relics to Sarras to keep the Saxons from discovering them.
Brighid had told him a group of warrior monks called Templars had rescued the treasure
and returned it to Scotland, but because of unrest there as well, the Sinclair Protector had removed them to a foreign land called America.
He shook his great head, dislodging small fragments of sandstone overhead, and
sighed once more. He had frightened the mortal girl the night before when he‟d followed her home. He had forgotten how humans reacted to his kind. But this one cared for
animals, which wasn‟t unusual considering her real ancestry. Perhaps if she saw more of
him she would lose her fear.
Setlling his massive jaw between his claws and the spiky tip of his tail, he shut his
eyes to nap and plan his strategy.
Seconds later, he opened them wide as the scales on top of his head fanned out in
spears of defense. Another dragon was near.
Brighid had told him no dragons walked the earth any more. Cautiously, he
breathed in the air. It was not that close—perhaps a good twenty leagues away—but he
now recognized the scent.
Sigurd. The damn, white dragon that Hengist and Horsa had brought with them.
They had battled before and Pendragon had ultimately lost when Arthur was killed.
This time, he would win.
SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 22
He had to.
* * * *
Sophie peered out the window of the clinic again. Yep, the reporters were still
there, hovering like vultures waiting for the next kill. She‟d managed to elude them by
retreating to the Palo Pinto County Clinic yesterday, but the AP had gotten wind of the
story and the phone was ringing off the hook. Her vet partner, Allison, needed her back.
With a sigh, she turned back to her computer and Googled “Dragons” once more.
Two days had passed without any return of the dragon—except in that weird
dream she had.
Her cell phone rang again and she groaned. Robert had left at least a dozen voice
mails since the sighting. She glanced at the Caller ID and frowned slightly. Toby Clark.
Of all the reporters, he was the only one who hadn‟t accused her of setting up some sort of publicity stunt for her clinic. She pressed her answer button.
“Hello, Mr. Clark.”
His voice sounded cheerful. “Dr. Cameron? I was wondering if I could do a
human interest story on you?”
“I thought it was the dragon—or whatever it was--everyone was interested in.
Why would you want to do a story on me?”
“The tie-in would be great,” he replied. “You‟re a vet. You heal animals. Maybe
the dragon is ill and needed your help?”
Sophie almost smiled. The dragon—or whatever it was—she was still not to sure
she was ready to accept what should be a myth as reality—certainly had appeared
healthy, if nothing else. “I really think it was just circumstantial that it hovered here.”
“But maybe not. Look, I‟m a rookie at this reporting stuff,” he said with a note of
desperation in his voice. “If you give me an exclusive interview, it would really go a
long way with my boss. Plus, once you‟ve given the story, most of this pack will melt
away.”
Sophie glanced out the window again. That would be a help. Potential adopters
were having a hard time getting past the crowd. “Okay,” she said, “but I can‟t do it for a couple more days. We‟re swamped right now.”
Toby hesitated and she was wondering how insistent he was going to get. He
sounded sweet and nice, but she knew media types were predatory. To her surprise, he
didn‟t argue. Instead, they set a time for Wednesday morning.
She had just turned back to the computer when Janie, their assistant, appeared in
the door. “There‟s a man here to see you,” she said.
“A client?”
“Don‟t
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