Of Gods and Dragons

by Sherri Beth Mitchell

  The Dragon of the Gods

  Vol. III

  Of Gods and Dragons

  By Sherri Beth Mitchell

  Dedicated to my grandmother,

  Pat Kennedy.

  Also by Sherri Beth Mitchell:

  WolfShyne

  The Dragon of the Gods Series

  Throne of the Dead Queen

  (Book One)

  Rise of the Dragon Queen

  (Book Two)

  Of Gods and Dragons

  (Book Three)

  War Against the Realm

  (Book Four—Coming Soon)

  Model: Veronique Thys

  Photographer:

  Wim Hendrik Marc Steynen

  Cover Art by Fantasy Grfx

  Copyright © 2016 by Sherri Beth Mitchell

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1530128686

  ISBN 10: 1530128684

  Chapter One: To Gather an Army

  They were coming after him again: horrible, hairy creatures with two heads and savagely pointed teeth, running on all fours and some on two legs. Deep guttural voices came from their throats and forked tongues kept flicking between their front teeth as they panted with exhilaration and anticipation.

  They were nearly on top of him now.

  Suddenly the strange animals were all around him, and he could run no further. They smiled viciously, peeling the thin layer of flesh back from around their mouths, for they had no lips. Then the beasts charged him and he screamed as hundreds of sharp teeth sank into his skin.

  When he next opened his eyes, he saw his brother bending over him, pressing a damp cloth against his forehead. He looked around, taking shallow breaths because of the pain.

  “You were twisting about in your sleep, Keelan. Is the pain bad?” his brother asked.

  “Yes Quentin,” Keelan said weakly, “I’m hurting terribly.” His left arm slowly moved the light blanket that covered his naked body from the waist down. It seemed as though everything was bandaged. He carefully peeled back one of the wraps on his left thigh to reveal deep gashes and ragged strips of slowly healing flesh from where the heathen monsters had bit him.

  “By the Dark Moon,” Quentin muttered. “I hope it looks worse than it feels.”

  “About the same right now.” Keelan sighed. “I had the dream again. It scares me every time. I wish there was a way to have a good, sound sleep.”

  “I bet you do, brother,” Quentin said.

  “Good morning!”

  Both men turned to see a radiant woman coming through the doorway. Her dark, curly red hair flowed past her waist and was just starting to slip around the wide curves of her hips. Her emerald eyes flashed with sunshine and her full lips parted in a beautiful smile. She wore a deep purple dress with her Royal Robe—a d dark purple and sky blue velvet robe with a dragon stitched on the back. “How do you feel?”

  “He’s hurting, and his injuries look awful, my Queen,” said Quentin. “He still needs to be watched all day and night. Plus, he needs something to rid him of the nightmares.”

  Silvia nodded, sympathizing with her husband’s pain. “I will ask Zander to make a concoction to help you rest easier.”

  “Thank you,” Keelan whispered. He shifted in the bed and groaned as pain shot through his body. His eyes rolled back in his head momentarily before returning to his wife. He took a shallow breath, letting it out slowly.

  Silvia’s eyebrows furrowed in worry. Her love was nearly torn to shreds and had stitches all over his legs, groin, ribs, and arms. Luckily he had thrown his good arm over his head when the ferocious creatures had attacked him. His right arm had been put out of socket, but was now fixed, albeit extremely sore. A sling wound its way over his shoulder to support the limp limb. She could almost feel his discomfort and her heart went out to him.

  “Do not worry, my dear Silvia,” said Keelan. “I will be better in time.”

  She leaned over and covered his lower body gently with the blanket and smiled sadly. “I’m afraid that’s something we do not have much of.”

  “She’s right,” said a voice from the doorway. Sir Grant of Crider walked in slowly, still bruised from the battle against Lord Rohedon and his perverse army of creatures. “We may have slaughtered Rohedon and his army, but his wives will know of it soon and there will be a price to pay.”

  Quentin asked, “How long do you think we have until the witches find out? It’s only been three days since we won the battle.”

  Sir Grant sighed and took a seat in a heavily upholstered chair. “I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted. He pondered on it for a moment and then said, “Unless they were watching the battle with some sort of magic I think it will still be a few more days—a week at the most.”

  “Then we need to get moving,” Silvia stated solemnly.

  “Do you have a plan to propose?” Keelan asked. He had a depressing feeling that he would not be an active part of any plans made; however he still wished to know what was happening even though he couldn’t lift a hand or foot to help.

  Silvia began pacing the room, her dress and Royal Robe billowing about her and her voice chattering away. “The names of the three cities that stopped trading with King Rordar during the Lordalen War—I want them now, as quickly as possible. Their locations must also be brought to my attention, as I will be sending trusted Guards to convince them to be our allies. This needs to be done as soon as we finish our plans. I will ride to Lordale to lend our support and our army.

  “And what may I be doing during this time?”

  Silvia looked at her husband with pity. She knew how badly he wanted to go, but…

  “I see,” said Keelan softly. Unlike the others, his mind could see into another one, glimpsing words and pictures. It was a great, yet terrible gift he had received upon nearly dying, though it was beginning to fade away. And right then he saw that he would be staying at the palace while Silvia went to war.

  “I’m sorry Keelan…It’s just that the city will need someone to rule it and you will not be able to ride for quite a while—nor fight, for that matter. Therefore, it is best, my love.”

  He nodded sadly. “Very well. Anything for my Queen…on one condition.”

  “And that is?” Silvia inquired.

  Keelan cleared his throat with difficulty. “That my most faithful servant accompanies you every moment. Can you do that, Quentin?”

  “I’ll do it in a heart’s beat,” Quentin said quickly. “What my Lord and Lady ask of me, I will do.”

  “Silvia,” said Keelan, “do you accept my condition? I only want your well-being. If something were to happen to you I would not be able to live with myself for not being there to protect you.”

  “I accept it with great appreciation; Quentin is loyal, smart, and a good friend.”

  “I am going to go retrieve the maps of those cities so that we can make better arrangements for our travels,” said Grant.

  “Our travels?” Silvia said, lifting a delicate eyebrow.

  “Why, yes! You certainly didn’t think that the Prince and I would sit here idly, did you? Of course not! We shall ride with you the whole way. Can’t let you have all the fun, you know.”

  “Then the gathering of the Queen’s personal entourage has begun,” Quentin said. “We will finish our plans today and leave as soon as we can gather everything we need—a week at the very latest. I would suggest that someone prepare the city for our departure.”

  Hans pulled on the reins, the horses ahead stopping the carriage smoothly. The carriage had been designed by Gregorich, but was well put together—unlike his skeleton chair he’d had in the dining hall which was currently being melted down for the gold it was made of. The carriage was lined with silver trim, it
s curves standing out against the black painted wood. The side step beneath the carriage door was intricately designed steel, perfect for Silvia’s royal boots to step upon as she exited.

  The quiet ride out into the country had the young woman’s nerves on edge. She looked past her servants at the fenced in cemetery, and fought the urge to turn back. This was something she had wanted to do for a while now. At the very center of the immense cemetery was a tall block of stone; as she neared it she could see the large oak door set in the recess of the eave. She produced a long iron key from the folds of her dress and walked up the stone steps slowly. Hans and Maura waited outside patiently as she stuck the key in the lock and turned it. She took the brass knob and pulled it towards her, but it didn’t move. She tugged harder and felt the door coming towards her.

  Just inside was a torch hanging in a cast iron bracket. On the floor beneath it was a small box containing matches, which she used to light the torch. The stone walls around her suddenly seemed to loom closer under the flare of the flames held before her. The floor was spotted with the bones of rats and mice long dead in the dusty tomb.

  The small room inside the entrance way was obviously some sort of temple to the gods. An altar sat on one side directly before statues of Saphrite, the Goddess of Purity, and Aklamon, the God of Men. These were the Parent Gods, the leaders of all of the Heavenly. They had been tricked into imprisonment hundreds of years before, but no one had been able to find them nor had any clue as to where they were. Surrounding the duo were the other heavenly hosts: Aldoa was the Goddess of Healing and of all waters smaller than the Great Water. Geldin was her brother and was the God of War. Chin was their sister, a quiet Goddess in charge of the Humanity in people. Firayis was the God of the Dream World, and had seldom ever been seen. Eerich was the God of Evil, as well as the God of the Underworld. His name was often spoken with caution and fear. Hasofite was the God of the Great Water that spread forth from the sandy beaches and was Eerich’s uncle. They all looked down upon the altar, waiting eternally for sacrifices to appease them.

  Silvia walked over and laid down a diamond brooch she had had for years atop the altar. It was not livestock or food, as was the usual custom, but she had not thought to bring anything with her to the tomb. Nervously, she said a prayer softly to all the gods that the small token would suffice for the time being. That done, she turned and went down a winding staircase, into the bowels of the graveyard. The torchlight was much more eerie down there, glaring against the glistening walls. She took a deep breath, ignoring the slight smell of old decay. The stairs opened into a wide corridor at the bottom. The walls had rectangular holes every couple of feet, all filled with the remains of wooden caskets. Nestled in front of each pile of ruins was a stone bearing the name of the dead within. She read the names with reverence trying to remember the family tree Hans had begun to impress upon her the night before. She recognized several, but there were dozens that she had no clue as to whom they were. She read their titles and how old they had been when they passed on, saddened by the knowledge that she had never known any of them in any way. She walked slowly, lost in the world of the deceased, her imagination painting vivid pictures of what her family members had looked like. The tunnel under the ground seemed to go on forever. Her footsteps were hollow echoes following after her, chasing her shadow. The tunnel twisted and wound around a corner. There in front of her was a large circular room with most of the casket holes empty. One casket hole stood out from the others, as it had a small silver casket sitting inside, not the remains of rotted wood. She set the torch in a bracket on the wall to look more closely.

  Her breath caught and the tears she had been holding back began to flow freely down her cheeks.

  “Oh, Fyon,” she whispered. She reached out a trembling hand to touch his casket. “By the Dark Moon of Eerich I would have saved you if I could! Had I only been born first…I would have protected you!”

  “There was nothing to be done, even if you had been there. If you had been born first, it would be Fyon standing here mourning you.”

  Silvia hadn’t heard anyone come down behind her, and for a moment she was too frightened to turn around. When she did, a mirror image of herself in a different dress stood before her. “Mother?” she whispered.

  The woman smiled, stunning in her dead beauty. “I have waited so long for this,” she said. “Even though Zacharias and I passed to the Under-world at separate times, we had both sworn that should you ever come here, we would leave the Underworld for a few moments to visit with you.”

  A tall, handsome man appeared behind her, placing his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “My dear Silvia, you are more beautiful than I had ever imagined you to be. How proud we are of what you have done!”

  Silvia stepped closer, unable to believe her eyes through falling tears. Her hand stretched out before her and she moved closer until her fingertips brushed against her mother’s cheek. She cried out and withdrew her hand. “You are not apparitions! You’re really here!”

  Madeline moved to embrace her daughter tightly. “We’ve always been here, watching for you, praying to the Parent Gods that you would remain safe and unharmed. It was so difficult for us when Gregorich found out who you were!”

  Zacharias wrapped his arms around both women. “But you did everything to the best of your abilities, and bested that fool. You have done so well, my child. And you have chosen very faithful servants, as well.”

  Silvia stood back, and said, “One of them is your murderer, Father. If you so wish it, I can disown him as my servant.” It broke her heart to say that since Quentin had become such a good friend, but she wanted to show honor to her father.

  He shook his head. “That will not be necessary, as it was not Quentin who killed me. That was someone trapped beneath an evil man’s spell, and I cannot hold him to blame for it when he feels so much remorse and sadness for his past. What is done is done, and he has helped you in more ways than one to get your throne back to you. He’s also saved your life, which is reason enough to keep him with you.”

  “That is very true, my daughter,” said Madeline. Her serene smile vanished. “But now for the more important matter…you are leading our country to a major war for the first time in almost two centuries. That is no small task to accomplish. You are likely leading yourself to an early death, my child. What you are doing is very dangerous… dangerous, but necessary.” She took Silvia’s hand and squeezed it firmly. “We understand the prices a queen must pay to ensure the safety of her people.”

  “We cannot help you physically since we are deceased,” her father told her solemnly. “However, we have been praying to the God of War to aide you. We hope that he will listen to our pleas and keep our only living child safe. You have only just retrieved your throne…we don’t want the city to lose you again.”

  “I will not let you down—this I swear,” said Silvia. “I will do everything in my power to succeed in my endeavors.”

  “Use your magic, Silvia,” her mother said. “It’s been a gift among the women in my family for many generations, but none have had it as strong as you. You are by far the most powerful our family has ever seen, and you need to use this to your advantage. Practice every chance you get, my darling, and listen to what the magician Zander tells you—he is wise in these matters.”

  Silvia asked something she had been wondering for a while now. “How come I didn’t know Kieluna was a magic language, and why did it never do anything for me when I was growing up? I never knew I possessed these powers until I met Zander.”

  Madeline wrapped her arm around Silvia’s waist and pulled her close to breathe in her scent. “We told Dessica not to tell you until she thought you were ready, that is to say when she saw signs that your magic was coming of age. When your body finished maturing, that’s when your magic started its maturation as well. But you have to know that you have it in order to use it for most of us. That’s why you never knew.”

  Zacharias smiled and said, “I kn
ow nothing of magic and I cannot advise you on it.” He sighed. “Madeline, it’s time for us to go.”

  Her mother’s face saddened. “I know, I know.” Tears fell down her face, making her emerald eyes sparkle in the torchlight. “If you ever need us, we will be here. Just come into this tomb, and we can see you and talk to you. But we cannot go outside of this place. Take care, my darling…my sweet little dragon. We will miss you until you return. Please return to us!”

  “I will,” Silvia promised. “I will be back.” She hugged them both fiercely, then felt them vanish within her arms, their voices echoing their love.

  She turned to say goodbye to her brother’s casket, and saw that the two above him were her parents’. With trembling legs, she turned and went back up to the land of the living.

  Everyone went about their way and met up again nearly two hours later in the library. Keelan was laid upon a reclining chair, surrounded by his brother, wife, Grant, and Dalton. Also present were their most loyal subjects: Hans the manservant, Maura the maid servant, Frero the gardener, the Queen’s adopted mother and her friend Geremy, and Zander the magician.