Playing With Fire

by Adrienne Woods et al.

  “You knew what she was?”

  “Of course I knew. I always knew. The heart can’t choose who you are going to love. But then you got sick. You didn’t have a dragon form, and she healed you when no physician could. Father saw it, he loathed dragons. He knew what she could do.

  They immediately arrested her, and he knew how to save the treaty he had with Magdel’s family. She was supposed to be queen, but with me already married and my brother dead, the crown would go to me. The treaty was lost.”

  “He did this for a fucking alliance?”

  I nodded as my shoulders shook.

  Albert came over and hugged me tight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. What happened after he put her in custody.”

  “He gave her a potion which made her change. The question was simple, her or you. The answer wasn’t.” I sniffed. “I was forced to marry my brother’s wife after they erased Gwen out of our history.” I touched my face. “You are a lot like her. Always wanted dragons to be free. I’m sorry. It was just so hard to look at you. I do not want to be my father, Albert. If this girl is who you love, then marry her.”

  He grabbed me tight again. “Thank you father. What about the wedding that is busy taking place?”

  “It’s my doing. I’ll sort it out. Go get her.”

  Robert, his dragon entered the castle and we both looked at him. “And your dragon is pretty cool too.”

  He smiled at me. I saw Gwen and then he ran toward his dragon.

  I slid down the door and sighed.

  It was over. This hatred for dragons would die with me, as Albert was just as magical as his mother. She made sure of that.

  I would finally watch him become king and then a new era would begin. An era where all dragons will be free.

  About Adrienne Woods

  Adrienne is a USA Today bestselling author living in South Africa, where she writes full time. Firebolt, book one of the wildly popular Dragonian series, was her debut novel. Her second series, Dream Casters, will conclude with book three, Millue, to be released in 2019.

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  To find out more about Adrienne and her novels, visit her website at www.adriennewoodsbooks.com

  To Curse a Kingdom

  By Carlyle Labuschagne

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  The Dark Hunt

  Europe 900 AD

  * * *

  Leaves touch down on the forest floor in stark hues of red, orange and yellow against the dark earth. The wind a slow whistle as it swirls around thick stumps of towering Oak trees, kicking up a fine layer of sand that dance in the rays of the rising sun. Autumn has always been Prince Khan’s favorite season, for its undeniable beauty, wood-fires, and apple-cider smell. But it’s also the season the young prince associates with hope, light, love, and renewal after being buried in the dark, stifling tomb of his grief, betrayal, and regret for what seems like an eternity. Autumn is the color of Ashlan’s hair; the spirited heroine that is responsible for saving him from his devouring demons. Ashlan, the girl who knows his deepest darkest secret and guards as if it were her own. When the temperature drops suddenly Khan is pulled from his blissful musings.

  Around them the trees hunker in, as if shielding themselves against the outside world, or do they keep something in? Khan can’t help but wonder as the soft haze of blue light dissipates in the shadows of the narrowing woods as the four of them head in. The drastic change in the environment marks the border into uncharted woodlands. But without fear, they cross out of desperation to track, hunt, and exterminate their enemy. A big black beast had been glimpsed near the border a few times; its existence has threatened the safety of their scouts for far too long. No man or woman has survived an attack yet. It is now up to these four Viking warriors to hunt, and bring back the decaying body of the menace that has plagued their people for the last four years.

  The melodic trot of the horses’ hooves reverberates off the dense bark of Pine Trees. The light strangled by their clumping. The bigger birds and forest animals pushed out by the overgrowing Ivy and cutting Holly, giving the forest an empty quality. The forest becomes even darker, the path thinning until they have run out of pathway completely. They zigzag through the thick of the forest, caved in by branches, brush and a thick blanketing fog. Prince Khan takes in the lush surrounds, his eyes accustomed to the dark, he appreciates the beauty of the outside world in any form. It has been nearly four years since he’s been outside, and ashamedly he has to ride pillion with this guardian Erik as the rider.

  Soon there is a break in the darkness as the awakening day steals through the canopy of trees, the soft hoot of an owl makes it presence known, and king Ivor takes this as a warning sign to leave the horses. He’s always been a superstitious man, and you can’t blame him after the strange circumstances to the death of his Queen.

  Up ahead Khan sees his father dismount his horse, calling to his fellow chevalier to follow suit.

  “He’s close.” king Ivor murmurs to the hunters flanking each side of him on horseback. “I can smell him.”

  He lets out a grunt, “Proceed on foot.” His husky voice comes out in white wisps as the chill sets in.

  Khan’s eyes search the perimeter, “Father, do you not for a good reason prefer we rather take the horses. They will perform better to aler…”

  The King shoots his son a stern look from over his shoulder; his stare viciously cuts Khan’s sentence short. As if the words themselves could slice through his armor. He is scared of his father’s wrath, Kahn knows better than to challenge the king in any way. But in Khan’s gut, he feels something is dreadfully wrong with this scenario, causing his palms to sweat and his hands to shake. It’s been a while since Khan has felt it tear at his insides so strong, and the last time his instinct pulled this much was the day of his mother’s death. It was also the day his father locked him up in a tower. Young prince Khan raises his head to the heavens, swallowing down the ill memories. His eyelids closing in silent prayer to the gods above in hopes their mercy would help keep at bay the threat that looms in these woods. Opening his eyes to a slice of darkening skies and thick clouds, he blows out a misted breath at the sight of the thicket of sky-clawing branches, wishing he could be those trees right now – unyielding. Khan sucks in a deep, cold breath finding his center. The horse he and Erik are riding comes to a complete halt. His trusted guardian Erik dismounts their horse, looking up at the young prince with pleading blue eyes. “Stay.” He mouths to him, giving a soft tug at Khan’s foot still rested in the stirrup.

  Khan nods in appreciation to Erik’s kindness, a soft smile tugging at his lips. But when the king blows out through his nose, his fists tight around the hilt of his sword, ready at the draw at seeing his son disobey his word, the young prince fears he might have set in motion an event that could get his only friend in trouble, or worse.

  Erik steps in the King’s path, trying to convince Ivor, “Our horses could give us the advantage in detecting the beast. The Prince might be right, my Lord. Let the ungr verr be, my king; he is safer on the horse.”

  Ivor grunts at that, pushes Erik aside and attempts to pull his son from the horse, but instead of falling from the saddle as his father expected, Khan clumsily slides a tad down the side of the saddle, his feet firm in the stirrups - his savior from an embarrassing fall.

  When Erik opens his mouth to protest, “You will alert the beas...”

  The king barks, “Look at your horse, chevalier Erik.” His face inches away from Erik’s, “It already detects a beast.” His eyes shoot up to his son, then turns to Audun at the other side of him, a pleased smirk on his face. Chevalier Audun shares a confused look with Erik at the implication the king makes of his son, but they do not fail to notice the unease of the horse with Khan still on its back.

  Erik pats his horse and whispers to him, “There is no threat here Frigg, you are safe with prince Khan.”

  Khan sees his father stifling a laugh in the background, the tip of his beaded beard vibr
ating with glee. Khan’s gut churns from the hurt of his father’s reaction to him, but he can’t tell how much it aches exactly because the coil of looming events is still present in his belly. Slowly dismounting the horse, Khan’s elbow brushes up against the glassy beads tied up in Frigg’s plaited mane. The soft clatter of beads gets Khan yet another annoyed stare from his father. Khan’s feet touch ground, and Frigg with his long lashes and shiny black pelt gives off one heated blow through his nostrils. Khan’s eyes dart to Frigg’s ears. On noticing the horse’s ears flicking back and forth, his eyes fly to the tail which is now tucked in between Frigg’s hindquarters. He knows not how he can tell if a horse is in distress, but somehow he knows what signs to look out for. Swallowing against the guilt Khan feels at knowing he has this nervous effect on the horses, he shifts his gaze back to the horse’s ears, looking out for the signs of Frigg’s further anguish. On not finding any more accumulating signs, Khan cautiously takes another huge step back, his eyes pinned to the ground for a brief moment as not to seem like a threatening presence to Frigg. The other two horses give light stomps in response to Khan’s proximity. Looking around, Khan realizes his company is too busy scouting to notice the slight nervousness the horses present near him. This new focus gives Khan great relief and a much-needed distraction from the pull that still lives inside of him. But his reprieve is fleeting as the other two horses start to stir, their muzzles pulling back, ears turned forward, and then all three of the horses give a few snorts.

  That’s when all four warriors, including Khan’s gaze darts in the direction of the horses aiming ears. The silence falls like a heavy blanket over the forest. And like the drop of a foggy veil, they all switch into an instinctive mode. Frigg snorts before he shies away, alerting them all to the danger that threatens from the front. As one, the four men head forward with a slight crouch to their step. Weapons are drawn with no sound, only a glint of metal in the bands of sun stealing through the thick canopy of trees. King Ivor gives the signal. With his bejeweled fingers, he calls them to follow deeper into the brush. A slight swipe of his arm parts the foliage, his two chevaliers with prince Khan gets into position behind him. Above them, a bird squawks, flies away with the softest of branch snaps and leads his flock to safer skies.

  A few leaves with a black feather floats down between naked branches and glides across prince Khan’s face. He stifles a sneeze, loses his balance and trips over a protruding root. Erik quickly pulls the boy by his tunic without a cruel word. A rustle of leaves comes from a short distance away, drawing their attention back to the chase.

  Advancing still with only the softest stirs of forest brush, a shroud of mist entombs the roots of the trees, concealing burrows, and swirls around mossy stumps. If not for the rustling in the near distance, the men would have no idea where they are headed. A slithering sensation crawls beneath Khan’s skin, causing the pull in his gut to spike. He shakes it off, giving in to it now could threaten their mission. Khan keeps with the band, but the vice-like coil in his gut increases the deeper they advance into the thick of the woods. Khan cannot give in to it, can’t let it consume him – not only for his companions’ safety but also for his own. It is what got him locked up in the first place.

  Chapter 2

  Crowned of Lore

  The slow stir of fog and the rustle of leaves gives away the location of their deadly prey. The four Viking warriors taper in, pursuing the moan coming from the shadows, confirming their path forward. The king signals the halt to their pursuit while their eyes search the dim light for a glimpse of what kind of beast they hunt. But this deep into the forest, pillars of vines and walls of foliage grow between tall trees, strangling the light. The hunters are lead only by sound and something else. Between faint bands of light, stealing through the blind of branches, king Ivor catches glimpses of his son’s reactions. Unknown to the two chevalier with them, Ivor uses Khan’s responses as a guide to finding the beast.

  The prince comes to a halt beside his guardian Erik, were for the time being, Khan seems to have the feeling of danger under control. He wonders if all warriors have that same voice of instinct so loud that sometimes it is like a compulsion, one that cannot be controlled. But the fact that he has been locked away for the past four years has him doubtful.

  The men stand awaiting the king’s next signal. For now, a wall made up of a wild webbing of brush, branches, flowers, and ferns keep them hidden. In the distance behind them, they hear the warning calls from the horses. Even Frigg and his companion of horses are aware that the beast is mindful of their presence. The forest awakens with a feral moan echoing into the wooded surrounds – a warning from the creature to the humans to stay away. But they have come this far, tracked their village stalker into uncharted woodlands, and the men know they will never get another chance like this anytime soon. The beast must die today, should it not, the death of another villager at the claws of this deadly creature will be on their hands.

  When a huffing sound breaks the moment of silence, they are made aware of its close proximity. The creature seems to be moving closer to the wall of foliage that separates them. Knowing this is their only chance, the King indicates to his son to come to the front-line. Hesitantly Khan makes it past Erik and Audun without meeting their gazes, the coil in the inside of his gut tightening to such an extent Khan finds it hard to breathe, or think of anything else – just like the day his mother died. King Ivor shoves his son forward forcefully. And even though Ivor’s face is shrouded by shadow, prince Khan knows his father’s blue-black eyes scrutinize him and can almost feel the heated hatred directed at him through his father’s gaze. At fourteen, Khan is half a head shorter than his father, his shoulders already meeting the breadth of his King’s - he can easily take his father down. But Khan fears such an act might cause him to lose the only thing he loves in his rotten existence.

  Ashlan.

  She is the only thing keeping him drawn to the light, he will not let that light die, for the sake of hope, love, and peace he so desperately craves. Mostly those sentiments are the only thing that would make his mother proud. For now Ashlan is that to him. With her, he is hopeful that one day, the kingdom will be ruled by the light he clings to in her eyes. From behind the wall of overgrowth, the creaturesque moan comes again - this time it’s louder and followed up by the roil of potential danger. The warriors draw their second weapons, ready to pounce, but the king warns them to stand at bay. Confused Erik and Audun share a look at the same time as a thump is followed by the crushing of leaves and the sharp snap of twigs just meters away. The beast is almost upon them.

  A shadow moves out of the obscure darkness from behind the intertwining Laburnum; its yellow flowers stark against a midnight furred pelt. A soft gasp escapes Khan, and about to backpedal in the realization of the massive form, Khan feels something forceful push up against him at the same time he is relieved of his weapon. When he looks up, his father nods to Khan with an intense glower, and the thrust of his armed-hand into Khan’s back propels him through the wall of shrubbery.

  The king with his chevalier watch as Khan breaks through the brush and is quickly sealed up again, swallowing their prince whole. Immediately the huffing, moaning, and grunts of the gigantic animal morph into a deep-throated pulsing sound, rumbling through the woods - a recognizable sound to all who dwell in these lands. It is the sound a fierce black bear makes as its last warning. This warning is then followed by a yell from Khan.

  “Stay back, please!” The prince shouts so loud it breaks his voice.

  Audun is ready to leap through the bushes, but king Ivor stops him with a hard shove to his chest.

  “Wait.” He demands of his men.

  The prince’s plea is met by the menacing sound of a feral bellow that reverberates off the surrounding woods and is chased down by an unearthly silence. It is as if the entire forest and all its beings have sucked in a deep breath, readying themselves for the plunge. Unable to stand the tension anymore, Audun leaps forward to save his
prince, but yet again the king stops him, this time with the shove of a fisted blade at his throat.

  “My King!” Audun’s voice cracks with utter confusion, “Your son…”

  “How will he become a king worthy of protecting our people if he can’t take on a simple bear?” Ivor sneers.

  Erik interjects. “My Lord, our Ungr Verr, is only fourteen. This thing has killed grown men. The sheer size of…”

  “He is not a young man.” The King’s menacing voice shakes the very air around them, “It is about time we test his capabilities.”

  Despite their kings’ warning, both chevalier get in front of Ivor - this they know will cost them dearly. But as last of the Viking kingdoms, these men feel they cannot afford to ignore the risk that this threat might cause them to lose the heir to the throne. The survival of their people depends on Khan. Both chevalier storm the bushes, weapons slicing and jabbing at the shadows beyond. King Ivor follows his men, to find a clearing bathed in streaks of light with Audon crouched to the floor, inspecting the evidence left behind. No Khan and no menacing bear - only pools of blood, chunks of black fur and slivers of Khan’s blue tunic littering the ground. The forest comes alive once more with a beastly moaning, followed by the bears’ bellowing, then a deep pulsing sound tailed by what sounds like snapping fangs.

  Looking into the direction the commotion is coming from, they conclude the brawl between the bear and prince Khan has advanced deeper into the forest.

  “But how?” Audun pulls at his beard, “they were right here, we heard it...” He stops talking and stands on finding deep gouges in the soil as if something heavy was pushed over the ground.