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from the cliff-hugging path to descend toward the hamlet nestled in a valley near the coast. The Scribe maneuvered the truck into a gap between other autos lined up along the boulevard and dispelled it back into silence.
    In the mid-day hours, the human village boasted sparse but continuous activity. “I believe the vehicle shall go unmolested without a sentry set upon it in so peaceful a burg.”
    “Not to worry. I shall guard it.” Willem smiled with pride before opening his jacket to reveal the pistol dangling out of the interior pocket.
    “Do you even know how to use the pistol?” Lugh arched a speculative eyebrow.
    “Not per se. I just collected it from outside the temple. The very sight of it might dissuade the faint of heart. If nothing else, I shall bash them in the head with it. It’s got a good weight to it.”
    “I rather hope nothing in this rural place shall require bashing. The outpost isn’t far. I trust that Rehnquist will offer sanctuary. I shall return as swiftly as may be.” Lugh paused long enough to slip his long knife in the thigh pocket of his ‘cargo’ pants, as Willem called them, and then hastened toward the cliffs. With luck, all would be secure by evening.

Chapter Four

    As the sun crested in the skies above the Ring of Kerry, Jonathan Wyndracer wheeled in deliberate circles, scanning his territory like a bird of prey. In dragon form, his wingspan extended more than a hundred feet, but his magic shielded him completely from view. The magic didn’t conceal his shadow, though, which chased him along the rough landscape far below.
    Using the angle of his wings to provide lift, Jonathan sailed south toward Sneem. As he patrolled, movement along a ridge below snared his attention. Even at this distance, his sharp eyesight easily distinguished human from any other creature, and this creature skirting the rocky outcrop between the trees was most definitely fey. His magic might prevent the creature from seeing him dive bomb toward him, but the leathery beat of his wings as he swooped down betrayed his attack. The fey bolted, scrambling to gain the constricted path between the trees.
    Jonathan snatched the fey. His talons ripped gashes deep into the yielding flesh before he slammed the goblin bodily to the ground. Jonathan mercilessly stomped the small fey, feeling the last of his struggle before the still of death. As he shifted his weight, more fragile bones snapped. The fey, like this goblin, were delicate creatures. Easy to kill, but tricky to catch. Silently, Jonathan regarded the foliage and boulders about him. Sometimes the goblins traveled in packs, but if this one had companions, they either found cover or used their fey Glamour to camouflage themselves. Tendrils of smoke curled from his snout. Jonathan snarled a warning, not that the fey ever heeded his warnings.
    Discarding the mutilated goblin, Jonathan rose once more into the air. Sneem awaited, only another few moments’ flight away. He continued his patrol until he reached the outskirts of the village.
    As he descended his shape changed. Rather than the four taloned-feet of the dragon, it was a man’s booted feet that touched the ground. The wings shrunk as they retracted, reducing the wingspan to twelve feet. Those wings wrapped about his shoulders and, as his magic flexed to make him visible once more, the wings acquired the appearance of an ankle-length leather duster. His tail also reduced in length and girth so that when he wrapped it about his waist, it appeared as nothing more than a scarlet snakeskin belt. The clothing that reformed around his humanoid shape was real and no illusion. To the highly developed magicraft of the dragonkind, causing his clothing to disappear and reappear as he required for shapeshifting was a trifle thing. He smoothed back his thick black hair, the tips of his claws scratching lightly against his scalp. Magic disguised the claws, but he still had them, just as his irises still possessed the