by C. Swallow
Chyronex
CSW1995 | Inkitt | Wattpad | Radish Fiction | Author C. Swallow
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Draconess Series
Book 1
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Author’s Note
Prologue
Rain patters softly against my skin as the day edges past dawn, onto morning. I watch from the stone arch window, curled up in the corner. My fingers tap against my bare knee, body clothed in a ribbon like cloth.
Being a priestess for the moon was always easy living, as long as my mind stayed focused.
All the young male warriors were being conditioned for their first yearly lessons down below on the streets. Mothers were grooming them with final last touches before they joined the army. Fathers were dragging them behind, onto their first day in training.
Prophecies were told, celebrations were plenty and every wise old head nodded to the young gentlemen on their way to train for great wars that never came to pass. Regardless, after the petty battles that would arise this year, what flippant stories would be told, what heroes would rise, inspiring thousands?
Swendula was a strange old city, full of wanderers mixed into established families with notable kinship.
While at least five families could challenge for the right to royal blood, certain other kinds of blood were often overlooked.
The female blood of magic was rare and treasured... if quietly. Then there was the female blood of the moon, which was both magical and mysterious. All magic was powerful, even if the few females that we accounted for in this city, were mostly shunned and ignored while kept locked away in our towers.
I sigh as I look down upon the city, hoping that this year is full of fruitful things.
Meanwhile, there is something else I can't ignore.
I feel a pit in my stomach. While the city may have a stable fortune, my personal woes were yet to begin.
When you were a priestess in Swendula, if you were not hidden – you were hiding.
If you garnered the wrong attention, certain Masters would come looking for answers.
Warrior Masters, War Masters, Singing Sorcerers. All kinds of powerful men looking for strange answers to their own problems. Unfortunately, they usually hated the advice given, because as a priestess we had to be truthful and direct. Well, most of the time, anyway.
If you were a smart priestess you kept your mouth shut and your mind busy.
I was mostly lucky. My only job was to protect the library of curses.
While my fellow priestesses would pray in groups and tell stories of the sun, I was the only one connected to the moon.
It was rarer and stronger but far more dangerous. Not because it was evil, but because it was rare. So rare, in fact, that only I harboured the keen interest to protect the books containing the ingredients for poisons or the step by step process for spells designed to manipulate, drain and steal.
So, while my job was lonely when I was working, at least I had a special purpose.
It made me feel uniquely important.
Whereas, the bravest soldier with known knowledge and fast wit may hold everyone's steadfast curiosity this year. And I... well... I was somewhat curious to know what it would be like... to be in the spotlight, connected to everyone's hopes and dreams, responsible for other's expectations.
But I guess that wasn't my journey.
Mine was simply hidden and that was something I had to respect.
In the midst of the rain falling upon the right side of my face, from the open shutters, as I gaze over the city, consumed in thoughts... I barely hear the footfalls in the stone corridor.
Heavy boots.
The moment I come back to my senses, it is too late for me to prepare for the intrusion that would grant me the wish I should never have wished for.
Adventure.
Lest not forget danger, because adventure could not exist without it.
In my naïve moment of curiosity, I turn my head and lift my chin to the tall, strange man in foreign clothes.
He is drenched in the rain, calm and coloured in purple, navy and black. An occasional metal symbol colours the edges. He is someone important.
He was clearly looking for someone.
Or perhaps...
"Are you lost?" I ask sweetly, raising a brow at the stranger who looks at me with a confused gaze.
"The War General's Meeting," he rasps out, clearly sick from some sort of chill, "This is the twelfth floor, is it not?"
"I am not privy to war meetings," I scoff and wave my hand around, which causes my many silver bracelets to clink together, "But this is not where you are supposed to be. Perhaps you were misled?"
"Aye," he pauses and watches me suspiciously, "I suppose the Swendula generals have no need to provide common courtesy to the very enemy that has your city walls surrounded by approaching and undeniable defeat."
That was sure a mouthful.
Now my interest is spiked.
The enemy?
I look at him more closely and realise his typical warrior dishevelled look has a distinct difference. The tattoos on his neck, show a far off animal called a Dragon.
He had come a long way.
"Perhaps they sent you here, hoping you would be cursed with a bad omen," I tease, holding out my hand and twinkling my fingers.
It is a mock attack gesture.
He watches my hand, my attempt at humour clearly succeeds as I see the slightest smile on his lips, however... I'm not sure if it's humour in response to my teasing or a humour in regards to something he knew that I perhaps, did not.
Unlikely.
"And you are?" his dark navy eyes jump up to meet mine while I lean back into my stone window sill, feeling an uneasy sense of... unknowing.
"I am the sole priestess that guards this particular tower," I explain, "I'm a moon priestess, to be precise. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"
I choose grace and respect in regards to his kinship.
He could be a messenger... or maybe even a rival king.
"Zarcar," he rolls the r at the end, on an unfamiliar name, "Perhaps you will tell me where I am meant to be?"
"I face the tower of war, directly west to my eastern tower," I explain, looking out the open window I point to the place he should be, "My guess is you'll not make it in time," I turn back to him to see that he has taken an unexpected step closer.
Two st
eps, precisely.
He leans on the other side of the window sill, his thigh brushing my foot.
I pull away, shocked at the contact.
No man ever touched me.
"It is of no concern," he finally says, turning to glance at me one more time, "I was only here as a formality, anyway... their mockery will be met with disdain."
"I do not understand your way with words," I try to wave him off, so that he can step back.
I did not feel safe with him so close.
"Your name?" he asks, out of the blue, "You failed to answer me the first time."
"Chyronex," I proudly respond, but in a bit of an impatient tone, "You never told me who you were... aside from you name, Zarcar."
"I have many titles," Zarcar murmurs, "Master, General, Lord..."
There is only one word I pick up on that pikes my interest.
"And what things do you master?" I ask, raising a brow – curious.
House slaves?
Warriors?
Peasant families?
It was a strong word with many meanings.
"Witches," he chuckles a bit to himself as he moves away from me, leaving my mouth gaping.
"That is an abhorrent term," I gasp, "Witches do not exist-"
"Neither do priestesses, not from the land I come from," he raises a brow at me, hardly giving anything away.
"Do you group all magic bearing females as simply witches?" I ask.
"The magic is different where I'm from," he explains, "You are simply a different kind of witch."
"Where are you going?" I ask as he begins to walk away from me without a respecting farewell.
"None of your business."
He doesn't even turn to look back at me.
"Well if you return, I will watch your blood spill on the streets as you attempt to usurp the rule here in Swendula. It has never been done before," I explain loudly, proudly and arrogantly.
He leaves without another word, his back to me at all times as he runs away.
Soon, his presence may be gone, but my heart won't stop beating in strange fear.
My palms feel sweaty as I look back up to the moon still present in the morning sky.
I didn't know what was to come, but I did know peace was ending.
I could feel it deep in my chest.
The peace I had lived within my entire life; was about to crash and burn.
All thanks to Zarcar and his powerful army.
Chapter 1
3 months later
The stories were rife.
Zarcar was a sorcerer.
Zarcar was a war general.
Zarcar was leading the city while his current king travelled from his home land towards my conquered city, Swendula.
Yet even so, after all I had heard about Zarcar, I could barely remember the man's face.
It bothered me that this city, somehow, had been overrun in almost complete silence.
Some deal was made.
No deaths were necessary when the men bickered and decided to settle on some kind of important terms.
Regardless, I was nervous and pacing, outside the war tower and outside my comfort zone.
For a priestess to leave her duty was to suggest she had important business elsewhere.
Wearing my silver attire, straps of silk hang off my wrists and thighs and upper arms, hugging my breasts and covering my most private areas. My silver bracelets were clanging loudly as I paced by the roses of the war tower. Blood red and growing steadfast.
Unfamiliar soldiers watch me wearily from afar, while my mind reels.
I had decided this morning to leave my tower and face Zarcar. I had no idea if he would remember me, but my patience had thinned. I could not ignore the commands at my door, suggesting that I vacate the area for more important members.
As for my residence, I had no idea where they expected me to go.
1 month notice had turned into mere days.
With 3 days to go, I decided to confront Zarcar before I was forcefully removed from my tower on the last day.
I had been waiting for the moon to tell me what to do, but no answer was satisfactory.
So, confrontation was my only option left.
Eventually, I hear a pert voice.
"Enter now!" I look up to see a small man ushering me over to an open door way.
I had been waiting up to an hour for this meeting.
My chin is held high as I come forward, my bare feet sliding over smooth cobble stones, paved neatly side by side.
"Zarcar is busy and –"
"I am busy too," I cut off the small squire and dismiss him, "I know where to go," I move forward on my own accord, heading for the meeting room on the ground floor.
The big wooden doors are closed, but I don't hesitate in using a swift call of the wind to push the doors open, fast and wide.
"Wait, miss!" the squire is too late.
I watch as a huge crowd of men and only some women, turn from a loud speech from Zarcar himself.
I stand in the door way, my breathing uneven and frustrated as I finally lay eyes on Zarcar again.
I am shocked.
He looked completely different.
Surely how I met him last was a disguise.
Now, Zarcar is cleanly shaven, his hair slicked back while a royal, black robe and hood outfit adorns his giant figure. A war cape. A thing of violence.
He's speech halts at my intrusion.
"I am done waiting," I call out, knowing my authority, although not bound in royal blood, was bound in power, equal to that of the leading men of the land. I start to walk forward, expecting to get the attention all priestesses deserved.
Multiple things happen that I am not used to.
Instead of gasps of delight at my presence, I hear scoffs and gasps of disgust coming from the crowd.
I flinch from their distaste and pause, especially when I see Zarcar's motion of a wrist.
He doesn't say a word.
But I can't stop what happens next.
My light approach and gentle feet are halted by strong, hard hands that grab both of my arms.
Guards restrain me and the contact constricts my chest with anxiety.
Priestesses were known to be fragile, you did not handle our bodies in such a rough manner – let alone think physical contact was acceptable, even in the slightest form!
"What do you think you're doing?" I ask, shocked as I'm forcibly dragged out of the meeting room as quickly as possible.
"Wait your turn," one soldier drawls simply before they both turn after shoving me out, retreating into the room and slamming the doors closed, right in my face.
I hear a lock turn, and while the red marks on my arms are still visible, my rare temper flares.
A lock was not going to keep me from having my say.
"Please wait," the squire approaches me but keeps his eyes downcast, "Please, Chyronex."
"I will be heard," my hand trembles as I raise it, closing my eyes, I feel for the lock midair. As if the mechanism fits into my hands, I bend my fingers and pull the right cogs.
As I open my eyes, I wave my hand to the side and watch as one of the doors starts to jut open.
Smiling to myself at opening the wood with my magic, I'm about to approach when the doors are suddenly shoved open and the crowd of men and women exit in a rush.
I stand back as higher ranking important members of Zarcar's army, disappear past me within seconds.
When they are gone, I peep into the empty room, aside from the guards and Zarcar himself.
He is waiting in the middle, waiting for me.
He is already watching me... deceptively calm.
I almost walk in, until my good senses overcome me.
Danger awaited me in there.
I change my mind on the spot.
I would not speak to him after all this. Not while I was flustered. I had to calm down first.
Glaring into his smug eyes, I know I shock him as I abruptly
turn and leave.
I walk fast and sure, hoping to get back to my tower as soon as possible.
My feet are swift and soft, gliding me out into the open air of the city as my energy pulses to my muscles.
Without glancing over my shoulder, I know he will follow me.
Now, all I can hope for is that I am fast enough.
So, I run back to my tower through the city.
Knowing my ordeal is not over yet.
Chapter 2
I had escaped confrontation for fourteen long hours. Evading my tower, traversing through the city on regular breaks and visiting the other priestesses.
After a long day of avoiding contact with any one I did not know, I can finally settle down.
Knowing I should relax does not stop my instincts from being on high alert, however.
The midnight sky was shining down dimly while I looked through every window on the 12th floor of my tower, waiting for a sign.
Eventually, I see a giant shadow, then a man, quickly approaching the tower from one of the paths leading through the small garden around the base of my residence and work.
I had known all along that I would not be able to delay this meeting forever.
I watch the caped man enter my tower and I freeze. I try to convince myself that I am wrong.
Had Zarcar decided to visit me at midnight, or was this a lonely stranger seeking an emergency spell?
I am conflicted in whether to run or stay.
Eventually I instinctively sit on one of the window sills, glancing around the corner of stones into the long and deathly quiet corridor, where you can find shadows hiding in shadows.
I decide to wait until I see him.
Then I would decide what to do.
I wait anxiously until the footsteps finally become loud enough to hear. As the giant man walks side ways through the door from the spiral stair case, I instantly pull my head back with the first glance.
It was indeed Zarcar – and I was deciding to run once again.
This man did something to my senses. I didn't want to be cornered by him. I did not know him. I only had that one encounter months ago and all the stories I had heard since.
I pivot my body around to slip out the window's open shutters to the small ledge, where I edge precariously up to a secret ramp to the rooftop. Scurrying along the slight architecture, I hold my breath almost the entire time. It was a secret and easy escape, but I had waited until the last minute like a fool... just to catch a glimpse of him one more time.