Son of Dragons Read online

  But even more importantly, Kavith’s father had promised the impossible: that he would clear their lands of the deadwalkers.

  When he was younger, his parents had fought to prevent the deadwalkers from breaching their kingdom. Ravieth lay in ruins from the creatures sweeping through the land like locusts. His parents had burned the city to the ground to kill everyone infected inside, and started anew.

  Landon remembered the strength of his mother, especially in the kingdom’s rebuilding. She was a warrior queen and that was what he wanted in a wife. To not only be free to protect his people, but a mate who would fight beside him. Would Kavith? From her letters, bragging about banishing a woman from her kingdom for spilling stew on her new gown, it seemed unlikely.

  Fafniron’s arranged marriage for Prince Landon was to have taken place after the spring equinox, but the king of Bramad had fallen ill and Landon had won a welcomed reprieve from marriage to a stranger.

  Was it too much to ask for love before country? He wanted to keep his people safe and prove himself worthy of his throne, but the thought of a stranger from another land being granted free access to himself and his kingdom was unnerving.

  He shook himself from his thoughts. “How soon before you will be ready to travel?”

  “Travel?”

  He turned away from the shield. “Will two days' rest before we leave suffice?” It would be a short journey. He would find this maiden defender who feared not the slaying of deadwalkers and speak with her. Mayhap he could learn her secrets for fighting the undead, and then he would cleanse the land of them. He would be a hero to his people and to himself.

  “We?”

  “I hoped you would accompany me on this journey. I want you as a friend as well as my liegeman.” As a royal, he had too few friends. He trusted Gillespie, having known him for his whole life. Gillespie's father was one of the royal cooks until his death. When Landon was younger, before the king told him the kitchens were no place for a prince, he and Gillespie used to steal bread from the ovens and catch fish in the river.

  “You remember how we snuck out at night and watched the fireflies dance? And once caught the miller, drunk and talking with a goat. No one need know we are gone until we are miles from here.” Landon grinned.

  “It was your idea to tell his wife. I will never forget the way he ran right into the lake to get away from her pitchfork.” Gillespie laughed. “Ah, but we were boys then, looking for adventure and not aware of the dangers. Now we know better. You cannot leave the palace. You’re the last heir to the throne of Fafniron.” He blushed, as if quickly remembering his place was not to question his prince. “Perhaps this is a trap to lead you away from safety. Allowing others to usurp.”

  “As well I know.” Landon paced between the throne and the shield. “My heart wrenches incessantly for me to leave. Though I know not to where—or what awaits me should I venture forth.” Was he running away from his commitment to an arranged marriage? He did not think so. He would do his duty if he must, but he wanted the country cleansed of these undead creatures. How could the Bramad king have promised to rid the land of these beings? What could his armies do that legions of his father’s soldiers had struggled to do years ago? If Landon brought safety to his own kingdom, perhaps he could even revoke his betrothal and find someone of his own choosing to love.

  “Stay, Your Majesty. Instead, I will go and do your bidding. These creatures are too dangerous; they cannot be satiated, unlike the vampyres they do not have a fraction of a soul left, and they multiply so rapidly. They cannot be contained and could overrun all Fafniron within a night if there were enough of them. How many of the creatures lay in wait for you?”

  The prince began to protest, but Gillespie stopped him.

  “Even the woman who rescued me moved as if cautious of the deadwalkers and she fled when I stirred. Not a trace of her trail could be found. The Sorceress, who works for the Warloc and controlled these undead creatures, surely wants you dead.”

  “This threat is to all of Fafniron from the vile manipulations of the Warloc," the prince said, angrily. "He wants to turn all of our people into these mindless monsters.” His fist slammed down on the arm of his throne. “No longer will I hide behind the walls of this palace. For countless generations my father, grandfather, and his father before him left the safety of these walls and rode into battle in the service of this land and others. They won against these creatures before, and I will again. These flesh-eaters will not fill my kingdom.”

  “Yet, your forefathers all had a successor.”

  “Aye.” He ran a hand down his face. “And after this threat is strangled, I’ll fetch my bride.” Even his grandmother, before she died, told him that his mate would not be from their lands. Was it Kavith she referred to? For now, he must deal with the threat of the deadwalkers, discover the source, and exterminate it.

  “Go to your home. At sunrise in two days, I will leave. I relish your company on this excursion if you wish to come. And if we’ve not found the source of this evil by the time the autumn Krocuse blooms, then you may return.”

  Landon handed him two pouches of gold coins. “Your payment for the head, and an advance for our journey regardless, whether you agree or not.” He nodded to a guard at the door. “Have the head burned.”

  Gillespie chuckled. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “When we leave these castle walls,” Landon squeezed his shoulder, “Call me neither 'Prince' nor 'Majesty', only Landon as you used to.” His hand released Gillespie’s shoulder. “I will tell my father of our decision.” He never expected an answer when he spoke with his father, yet he couldn’t help visiting him each day. When his father woke, if he ever did, Landon wanted to show his accomplishments, not just a marriage treaty.

  “Does his mind improve then?”

  “Nay.” He shrugged. “Somewhere inside is my father. I know he hears me—he must.”

  Chapter Three

  Staring into her divining bowl, the Sorceress Kavith smiled. The Warloc had trained her well. She felt a sharp stab of pain and anger that the witch, Celeste, had smothered his life. Though thousands of generations older than she, Kavith always thought of the Warloc as a father. He had rescued her and her mother from her birth father, who had beaten them both, and taken them to Bramad Palace. He became the only father she truly knew.

  For her safety, the Warloc had sent her away before Beltane. He hadn’t wanted the witch, Celeste, who was coming for him, to kill her too. He’d told her to travel west, past the Primora Sea and here to Cape Seyechell, where rumors claimed the spirits of the dead wandered. If he survived, then he would meet her there and winter would continue. If the witch won, her sign for his death would be springtime.

  Despite the distance, when Warloc’s body died, Kavith had felt his power surge into her. It radiated through her bones. Not all, but enough to fulfill her vow. Kavith stood proud as the host to the power of the only Warloc in the world and part of his lineage. Now, four individuals stood as the keys, keeping the Warloc from returning to the land of the living. Soon, she would break one of the keys—the witch, Celeste that threatened to extinguish the Warloc’s spirit from the underworld. She knew the other keys were Celeste’s lover, Brock, and Landon, her convenient betrothal partner. But the fourth she had yet to discover.

  The prophesied four must not succeed. If they did, Kavith would lose her current power and could never release the Warloc back into the world of the living. But all she had to do was break one of them and the rest would fall.

  The Warloc whispered to her out of the abyss. When the witch killed him, his sprit had come here to the Forgotten Lands, where all dead souls dwelled. There he was confined and unable to touch the land of the living. Only through Kavith’s divining bowl and the dark arts he taught her was she able to communicate with him. If his physical body had not been destroyed, she could have used her necromancy and the dragon teeth to restore him to life.

  Kavith must force Prince Landon to their
cause of freeing the Warloc from the Forgotten Lands. If Landon could not be swayed, she would kill him. Of course, Landon did not know that she was with the Warloc, only that he was powerful and Landon’s father, the king had wanted an alliance for protection.

  Now Kavith stared into the waters of her divining bowl and saw the deep abyss where the Warloc wandered. “All is set in motion, Father.” The waters shimmered.

  Her father’s face took form in the liquid. Through the color of the water, his features mirrored her own.

  Both had dark brown eyes with heavy eyelids. Each of them had black hair that absorbed the light, except his bore a touch of grey at his temples, a remnant of his mortality before the Shadow Wars between the Elvin and humans.

  Once, humans and Elvin had fought together, even intermarried. But, outraged by the Elvin Nivel, whose magic rivaled his own, the Warloc had convinced the humans of the dangers of the powerful Elvin magic, and how it corrupted all except him. He’d sent a vampyre after Nivel’s human wife. But magic that strong always had a price. The payment was that Nivel and the Warloc’s souls were tied to each other, meaning the Warloc could not fully die unless Nivel did. Both continued to live and not age for thousands of years. Now, because Nivel had not died, the Warloc still had a chance to return to the land of the living.

  Kavith missed her adopted father and couldn’t wait for his return. Prideful rage stirred in her heart. Soon she would reclaim their palace and slay Brock and Celeste, the witch who caused the Warloc’s death.

  “Do not let arrogance fill you with carelessness.” His voice churned the waters. “When I am reborn through you, and our enemies destroyed, then you may rejoice.”

  “Aye, Father.” She never wanted to disappoint him and hung her head.

  “And the witch?”

  Her head snapped up, and she could not hide her smile. “Ah, Celeste stumbled into the entrapment of the Ancient Elves, the one set to keep out humans, especially ones with magical powers.

  “If she escapes from that trap, I’ve set two more.” Seeing impatience on his face, she said, “I paid an assassin triple her usual price and promised her more if she succeeds. And I gave Cradezel, the deadwalker who did not return, a few of the dragon teeth to use against her upon my command if she escapes the Elvin enchantment. For now, Cradezel is in place to track Landon when he leaves the protection of his castle.”

  “Excellent. The Elvin soul here in the abyss is anxious for the dragon teeth and the chance for her revenge against the witch’s companion.”

  The heat of magic over her skin at his praise was like a warm bread to a starving beggar.

  “Remember if you fail ….”

  “I will not.” Her hair brushed her arms as she shook her head.

  “Are you better than me?” his voice roared.

  Water sloshed over the edges of the bowl. His power squeezed her. Blackness curled inside her. Blinding pain gripped her in a vise. She could not move. Agony made her want to claw inside her skull to ease the torment.

  Just when she thought she welcomed death, he released her. Air poured into her lungs. She gasped. Pain, worse than when she couldn’t breathe, pounded through her.

  “Nay,” she whispered as blood dribbled from her nose.

  Her breathing returned to normal. And she heard Warloc say, “Forgive me. I only wish for your safety, to be reunited with you and bring your mother back from the dead. Do not underestimate our enemies. For thousands of years I forged myself for this conflict with the Witch, yet I failed.”

  His voice made her ears burn. With words, he scolded her. With words, he brought shame upon her heart. “You’re still young.”

  “Nineteen.” She tried to square her shoulders. Compared to the years he lived, she was but a speck of dirt. “Most women have their second child by my age.”

  “Progeny, you are not most women.” He smiled. “For generations have I mixed my heirs’ blood to supremacy. Each has been more powerful than the one before.”

  If it made him happy, she would give her life for his. He had rescued her and her mother from beatings, and surely a devastating and early death. She owed him more than her life. He risked his immortality to keep her safe when the witch Celeste came. If Celeste had found Kavith at Bramad, she would have killed her too. He had sacrificed himself for her safety and their future.

  “Countless centuries, I worked to strike this bargain of a second chance to be reborn whole and as I was before my death, although the spirits would not grant a selfish request and resurrect me. I cannot do this alone and without payment of one of my enemies’ lives.”

  The hair on her arms prickled.

  “Even though you do not have my gift of immortality …” His eyes narrowed. “You have another chance, should you fail. Another life in case of your death—but that is all. Do not squander yours now for a promise to be brought back from the dead. For you’ll be barely higher than the undead creatures you control.”

  “I’ll not fail you. If I could, I’d sacrifice my life to know you would live again and avenge our enemies.”

  “Good.” His smile faded. “I still have some magic here in the Forgotten Lands. I will punish you for eternity if your spirit ever joins me here, because then we will both be trapped in the abyss forever. Before I am finished, you will wish for oblivion.”

  The ground beneath her trembled.

  “Take my life now, if you doubt me.”

  The quake subsided. When alive, he had never struck her, unlike her father. It was with words and guidance he instructed her. He must be desperate to take ahold of me with his power. I must not fail.

  “You must stop the four of the prophecy from sealing me away. Do whatever you must. Your reward will be great. Your name will make people cry out for mercy. I know a piece of the futures—only one road brings your success, and the second I cannot glimpse. The third, your demise. Take care which road you walk, for the spirits have not allowed any to know which twists will lead to the correct path.”

  “I understand.”

  “My time grows short. Concentrate on Landon—he is one of the four and if you can destroy even one of them, we will win. However, I will have greater power if you can win him over to our side. His magic is stronger than all the others. Once he joins us, we can use him to rid us of two of the other keys: Brock and Celeste. When I am free, I will have the power of life and death. All the souls sent here that have allegiance to me will walk again soon. As I promised, your mother will be the first one after I break through the Forgotten Lands. Remember, release my spirit before midnight at Beltane less than ten months hence. It is only through you, as you are my descendant by blood and choice, that I may be reborn as I was before the witch killed me. Only then do I have enough power to bring your mother back from this land of the dead. She will have her own mind, unlike the deadwalkers, raised by our power as well as dragon magic. I must withdraw from the gateway, for now.”

  “Soon we’ll be together again,” Kavith swore as the image in the bowl of water vanished.

  With one hand, she grasped the side of her ear.

  Taking her knife, she cut a sliver of skin off the top and tossed it into the water. Blood curled a path down to the bottom of the bowl.

  “This promise I make to the spirits above and below.” Her voice rang out. As if static were alive, her hair floated a breath from her skin. “Even if the Witch dies, I will not cease until all mine and the Warloc’s nemeses are carnage for birds. The assassin will bring me back the head of Nivel and his descendants, Brock and Mirhana. Until my father returns, I will rule the lands starting with Fafniron. After our wedding, Prince Landon will cower at my feet, or be buried beneath my throne.”

  Chapter Four

  Landon knocked on Gillespie’s door at dawn. His liegeman acted surprised to see him alone, without an armed escort. However, even though Landon wanted to do this on his own, he needed Gillespie’s help to find a woman he had never seen. Perhaps she knew of other ways to destroy the deadwalkers
besides beheading or burning them. Maybe she had a way to track them, as well as quicken his journey and win honor for his kingdom. The people would praise him if he rid the land of these creatures, before the number of victims increased. He wanted to meet the woman who fought the undead even at great risk to herself.

  After traveling for many hours, they allowed their horses to rest. Gillespie tied the animals to nearby trees and rummaged through their packs for something to eat. He tossed Landon a piece of jerky and took one for himself.

  “What of her trail?” Prince Landon flopped down on a boulder jutting out of a field ripe with daisies. “Isn’t this near where you saw her last?” He yanked off his boots, and then rubbed a foot. Pine trees dotted with fir and oak stood in the distance.

  “She moved like the wind. Before I blinked, she had several arrows embedded into the creature. She talked to it and it answered her.” He shivered. “It isn’t a sound I’d like to hear again. Then another woman’s voice came through, and she struggled with her own blade. It was magic—sorcery that nearly loped off my savior’s own head rather than the creature’s.” Gillespie frowned at the ground. “Her prints are light as if she walks on air. Or too many days have passed.” Gillespie wiped the sweat from his brow. “And the tracks are far apart.”

  “You did say she was human? Perhaps a seraph has played a trick upon us.”

  “Here, I think this missing chrysos’s petal may be another one of her steps.” He shrugged. “I hope my guess is right or we’ll end up lost.”

  Landon rose and stood on top of the boulder. “Looks like a village ahead. Perhaps someone there knows of her?” He leapt down then pulled on his boots. “At least we can bathe and rest under a roof tonight.”