When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  “No one else knows you are still in mourning, do they?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered. “I keep it hidden.”

  He nodded. “It does not change my love for you,” he said. “And I love your honesty.”

  “Have you had no other lovers?” she asked.

  “There have been two,” he said. “But none as koris-val.”

  “I’m sorry I cannot be your koris-val,” she told him, laying her head on his chest. “You will always be in my heart. You are the father of my child. There will always be love between us.”

  He stroked her hair. “Just… not as mates,” he replied. The disappointment in his voice was palpable, but there was no anger. “Nevertheless, I am happy I found you again.”

  “You understand,” she said.

  He sighed. “Yes. It is not what I wished for, but I understand. I will open my heart to the possibility of another mate.”

  “I hope you find her,” Aradma said.

  “And I hope you are able to let Tiberan go,” he replied.

  “I do too,” she said softly.

  Odoune reached his furred fingers up and touched her cheeks, breaking off a trickle of frozen tears.

  The next morning Aradma and Odoune returned to the house. They had stayed up most the night and then slept in each other’s arms through the morning hours. Aradma had summoned a screen of vines to keep the wind off of them, and the fur coats were warm enough that it trapped their body heat against the cold.

  “What will you do?” Aradma asked as they approached the house.

  “I intend to stay, if you’ll have me here,” he said. “I have a daughter.”

  She smiled. “I hoped you would. I know Fernwalker will like it. And we could use your strength. Times are tough.”

  Fernwalker burst out the front door. “Mom, Dad! Where were you?”

  Odoune burst into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” the girl asked.

  “I just realized something,” he said. He tousled her hair. “Your mother is only a year older than you.”

  19 - Surafel

  As the ship sailed south to Surafel, Arda and Anuit did not say much to each other; the sorceress didn’t feel much like talking. When they had escaped Taer Iriliandrel, they had found Erindil in flames. The Covenant had overrun the city, and Narim’s family was dead. Arda’s horse, Dart, was as well. The two women then journeyed back to the port city on foot, and it was through Bryona’s seductive arts that they were able to commandeer a ship to take them south. That, and Bryona’s ability to take on the appearance of any woman. Even a vampire woman.

  Maintaining the subterfuge, Bryona wandered the decks at night, making an appearance as the vampire. Anuit, shielded from the winter cold by her gown’s magic, found that the nighttime decks were the perfect place for privacy. No one bothered her. They were either busy with a job that took them into the cold and were too focused on completing the task at hand so they could warm themselves again, or they were lingering below decks. No one needlessly wandered outside at night. Not even Arda. Arda had withdrawn into a stoic shell after finding Dart had been slain. Why would the vampires care to murder a horse?

  Anuit looked at the dark ocean below. The wave tops cast back just a few points of light from the ship’s windows and lanterns, but the rest of the sea was inky black. Like the Void.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Bryona asked, coming up beside her. She wore her black and curly hair flowing down to her waist in a large mass of locks. Her eyes were blue, and her skin had the pallid white of a vampire. Anuit thought she rather enjoyed wearing this form.

  “It is,” Anuit said. The jet-black water reminded her of Thoknos, the first demon she had lost. Khiighun’s destruction still caused an ache within her soul. He had never had a problem disposing a single vampire before, and the elven woman had pulled him apart almost as an afterthought. What chance did they have?

  She wanted to go down and talk to Arda. She wanted to lie in bed in Arda’s arms and have the paladin tell her everything would be okay. She wanted to hold Arda in her arms and tell her that she was so sorry for her loss.

  Bryona seemed able to read her thoughts. “If you want my advice, don’t go to the woman,” Bryona cautioned.

  “I don’t want your advice,” Anuit responded. Then she looked up at the succubus. “What, don’t you want me to go to her? Don’t you want me to give in to my desires?”

  Bryona shook her head. “No. I want you to trust me, and I want you to be happy. Do you remember how you felt after I touched you?”

  Anuit nodded. “Dirty.”

  “That’s because it’s demonic,” Bryona said. “Your love for women. It’s twisted.”

  “Don’t you want me to become twisted like you?” Anuit challenged bitterly.

  “No, I want you to be strong,” Bryona said. “You are my key to this world. It’s important to you not to become like me—you’ve made this clear, and I’ve learned that if I want to act in this world I need you strong and sure of yourself. If you go to this woman, you will twist your soul with unnatural acts. You’ll become like me.”

  Anuit stared at her.

  Bryona leaned forward and whispered into her ear. “It’s unnatural you would want to touch another woman that way.” Her breath was hot on Anuit’s ear. “You’re already twisted, and letting your first demon die didn’t help.”

  Belham appeared in front of her. “Bryona’s right,” he said. “You remember how you bound us in the first place. The magic rituals required you offer a piece of your soul to us for the Lords of Dis to form into bodies. When your demons die, that part of your soul is returned to you.”

  “You lie,” whispered Anuit.

  “No,” he said. “Not today. Why do you think you have so much command of the void? Of darkness? Thoknos’ essence is in you. You gave a piece of your soul and allowed a demon to remake it in his image. When he died, it came back to you, but changed.”

  “It’s only a matter of time,” Bryona said, “until Khiighun’s essence manifests in you. We don’t want to lose you—and we don’t want to die like they did.”

  “The more demonic essence is returned to you,” Belham added, “the more unstable you become.”

  “So no,” Bryona said. “I don’t want you to touch that woman’s lips. Your soul doesn’t need to be twisted any more.”

  “Find a man,” Belham said. “You must teach yourself to want men.”

  “I can’t!” Anuit argued. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

  “Let a man have you,” Bryona said. “That you’ve never enjoyed a man inside you is a crime against all nature. It’s why you’re so susceptible to the demonic essences in your being and why you didn’t draw an incubus to yourself when you pact-bound me. It’s why you want what is the most unnatural thing for you to want: another woman.”

  “Go away!” Anuit cried. “Leave me alone!”

  The demons vanished.

  Anuit slumped down on the deck, crying into her palms. She knew they were right. She could feel Khiighun’s essence within her. She stared at her hands for a moment, and her fingers extended into long claws. She gasped and felt long razor teeth fill her mouth. Her feet twisted into clawed toes, tearing her boots open.

  I will control this, she told herself. She focused on the calm of the inner darkness within her, seeking the void in her mind. Her sobbing stopped, and her fear receded into melancholy. She stared at her hands, and with a calm breath willed the demon essence back into her soul. Her fingers and toes returned to normal, and she felt the rows of razor teeth in her mouth shrink back into human teeth.

  Now if only her infatuation for the paladin could be unsummoned so easily.

  Surafel glittered like a jewel of rising blue and green and gold minarets at the edge of the great Surafian Desert. The sun shone down upon it in glistening splendor, spilling light and heat in scintillating brilliance, scattered up again by the wave tops. Anuit squinted as she stood beside Arda on the
Surafian naval vessel.

  “Not a land for vampires,” Arda remarked. Even in January, the air was warm.

  Anuit turned her head and looked at the woman. Arda focused her gaze on the shore, intently over the rail. Her face caught the sunlight, and it framed her fair skin in golden hues against her midnight black eyes and chestnut hair. Despite her solid eyes and the demonic horns of darkling heritage, Arda looked pure in that moment. She sought redemption and the end to a quest she had begun to find the Gold Dragon’s avatar, and then abandoned, years ago.

  Much to Anuit’s relief, they had learned Surafel was completely free of the vampire contagion, Covenant or hungerbound. A naval blockade had stopped their vessel from Erindil a few days ago. The captain had orders to let all Kaldorites through, and thus Arda and Anuit were transferred to his vessel. He then opened fire on the Erindian ship, sinking it to the depths. The captain was to bring them to the sultan immediately upon their return.

  The ship docked, and true to his word, he personally escorted the two of them through the streets towards the palace. Anuit looked around in curiosity, seeing for the first time in her life throngs of people that were similarly dark-skinned like her. Here and there, she even saw people of darker complexions with short-cut curly hair.

  Arda seemed out of place with her fair northern skin. And there were so many people! She brushed shoulders with everyone just to move through the streets. Most wore loose cotton robes, and both men and women had cloth head coverings to shield them from the sun. Arda also placed her cavalier hat on her head to offer her eyes shade. Anuit wished she had a tricorne.

  Arda touched her shoulder to get her attention. “Look. There are shrines in the alleys and people selling idols.”

  “The Old Gods are returning,” Anuit remarked.

  “Yes,” Arda said, “but without Rajamin’s Church of Light. This is disorganized. And some of them might not even be gods at all.”

  She was right. Amid the market stalls, Anuit now noticed carts with statuettes, trinkets, and roughly carved rune stones. Each street corner had a man or woman shouting at the throng and attracting small crowds of people who wanted to hear about the virtues of their god over the other gods. There seemed to be an uncommonly large populace of darklings, maybe even more than there were humans.

  Up close, the city was dusty and sandy. From afar, it had looked to be a beautiful shining beacon of civilization, but now Anuit felt lost in its streets. She was glad for the captain that led them through its labyrinthian ways. The streets reeked of human filth and sweat, and heavy perfumes of myrrh and sandalwood intermixed brokenly with the aromas.

  Arda suddenly grabbed Anuit’s waist and spun her into a side alley, pressing her back against the wall in one fluid motion.

  “Shh,” she whispered into her ear. “Follow me,” and then she took Anuit’s hand and headed down a third side street.

  Anuit ran after her. “Do you know where you’re going?” she asked. Her breath rushed through her chest as her heart beat in apprehension.

  “No,” Arda said, “but someone flashed me hand signs in Kaldorite code. We needed to lose the captain.”

  “Are you sure?” Anuit asked. “The captain and his men seemed honest.”

  “The code would only be known to Kaldorite leadership,” Arda said. “If the Order’s instructions are not to see the sultan, then we don’t without finding out why.”

  “We need to keep moving then,” Anuit stated. “The captain will search for us.”

  “Indeed,” Arda nodded.

  “Wait,” Anuit said, stopping. The paladin stopped too, frowning in apprehension.

  Anuit summoned Bryona, and the succubus appeared before them. “Wear Arda’s form,” Anuit commanded.

  Bryona arched an eyebrow, and then appeared as a perfect doppelganger of the paladin.

  “That’s creepy,” Arda remarked. “But I see where this is going.”

  Anuit nodded. “Bryona, go lead the captain far away from here.”

  Bryona curtseyed. “As you command, mistress,” and then she was off.

  Arda and Anuit continued further into the depths of the city’s dusty alleys.

  By nightfall they were lost, but Arda seemed happy with this. They sat together in the corner of a seedy inn’s common lounge at the back end of a tight alleyway. Beggars and whores wandered the streets outside with rough looking businessmen, who had time for neither.

  They sat on cushions on the floor at a low table in the room’s corner. The lounge attendant brought them some dry bread, dates, and other dried fruits and nuts. She set down two mugs of watered-down beer and a small hookah pipe with two smoking hoses. She returned with tongs and a burning coal, setting it in the top of the clay bowl over the tray holding molasses-sweetened tobacco. Arda paid with two silver coins.

  “Beer?” Anuit asked.

  “You expected something else?” Arda replied.

  “I don’t know what I expected.”

  “Beer was invented here,” Arda explained. “It was only perfected in Hammerfold.”

  “Oh. Have you been here before?”

  “No,” Arda said. “I’ve never been south of Olriksmarch, in Galadheim. I’ll be right back. I’m going to negotiate for a room, and find out where we can get clean clothes.”

  Anuit sipped at the beer. She stared at the hookah for a moment, then looked around to see what other tables were doing with it. Following their examples, she inhaled from the pipe. A cool burning filled her lungs, and a sweet fragrance coated her tongue. She coughed and put the hose down on the table.

  A man approached and sat across from her. “If I might intrude,” he said, “I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here. I overheard your accent. You look like you are from Surafel, but I don’t think you are.”

  She stared at him and didn’t answer. He had brown skin similar in tone to hers, and his black hair was cropped short in neat lines. His eyes seemed kind enough, but his gaze poured over her in that familiar way she had seen from other men. He kept eye contact with her, but she could see the way he took in the contours of her body with his peripheral vision.

  She had noticed the women in Surafel tended to dress in wider, more amorphous robes and gowns. Hers was revealing by comparison, and she decided she needed to get more local attire. Even with its temperature regulating magic, she had been in the thing for weeks now and had grown to detest the green dress.

  “You are not a prostitute,” he stated.

  She started. “No, I’m not,” she said, shaking her head sharply.

  “Not even a courtesan, I suspect. I thought not. But you would not be here at this inn, then, if you were not desperate. Come with me. I can show you the city and find a place for you. It would make me sad to see you become a prostitute, and most women who end up here have very few other options when their money for room and board runs out.”

  “No,” she told him. “I’m not staying here.”

  He got a hungry look in his eyes. “You are beautiful. I must have you. I will pay, if that’s what you want, triple what the girls outside charge. You need money, no?”

  She remembered Bryona’s words. Give yourself to a man.

  “No!” Anuit said firmly. “Leave me. I have no desire to speak with you further.”

  Arda returned after negotiating the room.

  “She’s spoken for,” the paladin said. “You were just leaving, I believe.”

  The man frowned maliciously at the darkling, but his face changed when he saw the sword at her back and the severe frown in her eyes.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I was just leaving.” He scurried off to harass someone else.

  Arda sat down once more. “The room is settled. We’ll stay here tonight, and then see if we can find the other Kaldorites tomorrow.”

  “What did you mean?” Anuit asked.

  “What?”

  “You said I was spoken for.”

  Arda only gave her a crooked smile. Anuit’s heart raced.
/>   “Tried the hookah yet?” the paladin asked.

  “I didn’t like it.”

  “It’s not my thing either. Too much, and I don’t like inhaling.”

  Taking her mug in one hand, Arda sipped at her beer. Her other hand slipped under the table. Anuit felt Arda’s fingers brush over the top of her own hand. At first she thought it accidental, but Arda lingered. Anuit’s breath quickened, but she did not pull away.

  They sat in silence for a moment, neither quite looking at the other. Anuit turned her palm up and opened her hand. Their fingers played with each other, touching fingertips on fingertips.

  A figure shrouded in black entered the lounge. From the body’s barest impression of curves beneath the thin layers of robes, Anuit guessed she was a woman. She wore a matching black scarf draped over her head in the manner of a long hood falling to shroud her face, which then fell down over shoulders and arms to her elbows. A mesh oval of black gauze concealed her eyes but allowed her to peer out at the world. She turned her head, scanning the room, and then stopped when the oval gauze faced the two of them. She flashed a hand sign, and Arda gave a small gesture in response with the hand not occupied with Anuit’s fingers.

  The shrouded woman approached and sat cross-legged on the floor cushions opposite them.

  “You are a Kaldorite?” she asked them. Her feminine voice confirmed Anuit’s assumption.

  Arda stared at her and tensed. Her fingers tightened around Anuit’s. The sorceress’s fists clenched in response to Arda’s reaction.

  “No, of course you are,” the woman said. “You already told me this.”

  “You are not,” Arda stated. She shifted in her seat so that her duster opened, and the butts of her pistols were free from obstruction should she need to reach for them.

  Anuit mentally reached for the Dark within her, ready to channel it at a moment’s notice. They still hadn’t let go of each other’s hands.

  “No,” she answered. “But the one you seek sent me to find you.”

  “How did he know we arrived?” Anuit asked.

  The woman shrugged.