When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  Arda inclined her head. “Through sorcery.” She absently touched one of the horns on her head. “This is why I am as I am.”

  Kaldor nodded. “By then, humanity no longer believed dragons existed. They had forgotten the name of Klrain and the others. We made the mistake of overlooking Klrain’s dreamwalker. He roamed free and tempted the High Wizards of Artalon with sorcery—a means to survive the High Elven Imperium. Humanity simply could not compete with elven magic. They were desperate. They made pacts with the king of Dis—Klrain’s dreamwalker in disguise—and became darkling sorcerers.”

  “Not all of them made the pact,” Anuit interjected. “My coven in Windbowl taught that one was too weak—”

  “Too strong,” Kaldor snapped in irritation. “The one you speak of is Tal Harun, my ancestor. Were it not for him, humankind might have lost the art of wizardry.”

  Anuit pressed her lips together firmly.

  “I apologize,” Kaldor said. “It’s just…” he sighed. “Never mind. A tale for another day, perhaps. Back to the main point, sorcery proved strong enough to buy humanity’s survival. Klrain drove them to more than that, however. He whispered in their dreams for generations, teaching their children darker magic still. They used the Dark to bend space and time itself and were able to make Artalon exist simultaneously on multiple worlds. They settled these lands from across the stars, conquering and killing those who opposed them. Each Dark pathway that they established weakened the stability of Ahmbren herself… and the dragonsleep prison.”

  “Surely the other Archdragons knew what was happening,” Arda remarked.

  “He was subtle,” Kaldor said. “And we—I mean, they—were lost in their own dreams. But you are right… Eventually the world’s instability drew Archurion’s attention. He too visited the dreams of the sorcerer lords, warning them about Klrain. They simply didn’t believe him; they thought him a trick of gods—weaker now than they had been in the First Age—jealous of their demon armies or sidhe magic.”

  “Why were the gods weaker?” Anuit asked.

  Again, Oriand answered. “Because people commanded demons. What need did they have to worship gods?”

  “Regardless,” Kaldor continued, “Klrain’s plan worked. Finally, with the help of the Artalonian Sorcerer-King, he broke free from dragonsleep.” The wizard closed his eyes for a moment and took a slow breath, as if reliving a memory. “The Three awoke and re-bound Klrain, but not before Archurion sunk Artalon beneath the waves, punishing them for their pride.”

  “The destruction of Artalon…” Arda murmured. “The end of the Second Age.”

  Kaldor looked up from his coffee at the paladin. “Indeed… and what had we accomplished? Nothing. We were all stuck back in dragonsleep. This time, we bound Klrain’s dreamwalker in the Otherworld, in the care of the Fae King… but still… it was only a matter of time before the cycle would repeat again. The three of us were not strong enough to defeat Klrain even together—”

  “Is the Dark that strong?” Anuit interrupted. A warring flash of emotions crossed her face… both pride in her art and also a kind of fear. “The other three elements combined could not overcome it?”

  “No, not the Dark,” Kaldor corrected. “Klrain. He was strong. He was always the strongest of us, the first to ascend as an Archdragon. If we could catch him unaware, as he slept, we could slay him. Like us, he was still a mortal, physical being after all. But we could not waken to slay him without awakening him as well.”

  “A dilemma,” Oriand agreed.

  Kaldor nodded. “And so Valkrage hatched a plan for the three of us to incarnate—our dreamwalkers to incarnate, while our greater selves maintained the dragonsleep—and grant our power to a champion.”

  “And here you are,” Oriand remarked before sipping her coffee.

  “Yes,” he said. “Here I am. We found the right bodies at the right time—the dreamwalkers attached themselves to unborn children, and only revealed themselves later, over time. The integration of dragon and non-dragon personalities did not go well for Valkrage or Sidhna. Valkrage resisted Eldrikura and was subsumed. Sidhna resisted Graelyn, and Graelyn abandoned her. Only Archurion was able to peacefully integrate with me.

  “We failed, obviously. Graelyn abandoned her avatar before giving her power to Aaron. You know the rest, I believe… Valkrage guided Aaron to restore Artalon—”

  “How did he do that?” Anuit interjected. “Archurion sunk it—destroyed it. Gnomes didn’t rebuild a new city for the Shadowlord, did they?”

  Kaldor shook his head. “No. Although Graelyn failed, Aaron had been given the power of Archurion and Eldrikura. He raised the peninsula from beneath the sea and restored the broken city to its full self with their magic. Then he, at Valkrage’s prompting, built an empire over the years. Valkrage bent the worship of the Nine Realms under one creed: worship Aaron as the incarnation of Karanos.”

  “And where were you?” Anuit asked.

  “Bound outside of Time,” Kaldor answered. “Valkrage knew I would interfere, and he imprisoned me so I could not meddle.” He frowned. “And it worked. Aaron became a god and slew Klrain.

  “Even outside of time, I felt Klrain’s death. I felt Archurion’s body die. I’m sure Valkrage felt Eldrikura die. The dreamwalkers could not sustain themselves, so I understand when you said Valkrage went mad.

  “When Valkrage died, his magic died. My tower was slowly pulled back into Ahmbren’s time. From my perspective, it took two weeks from when I felt Archurion’s death. It seems, however, that it took eight years on Ahmbren after Valkrage died before the tower reappeared.”

  Kaldor stopped for a moment. His coffee was empty. “Why don’t I make more?” he asked. “I’m almost finished. I’m sorry for taking so long, but it’s important you understand the truth.”

  “I’m grateful,” Arda said. Then she grinned. “For the break.”

  That’s better, he thought. He wanted her to see him as a peer, not as a superior.

  Kaldor stood and stretched his legs. He set out another kettle and made four more cups of coffee, setting them out with some dishes of dried fruits, nuts, and unleavened bread. They had been sitting for a few hours, and it was past lunch. Perhaps he would send Oriand to order food for dinner tonight.

  When they had all settled after stretching their legs and refreshing themselves, he continued.

  “So what now?” he asked rhetorically. “I finally return to the world, and much has changed. There is a new threat. Klrain is dead, but the Old Gods have returned, and the balance between the Gods of Light and the evil gods is not what it once was. Malahkma’s pestilence runs free in the world; I cannot reach the Otherworld; there’s a new elven race; the Dragons are dead; I’m no longer an avatar. And Graelyn is nowhere to be found. That is the one point I’m somewhat confused on. She had abandoned her avatar, so why is she not awake? Did she not survive?”

  “I can help on that,” Arda said. “The seelie woman I spoke of, Aradma, explained it to me once. You bound Klrain’s dreamwalker in the Otherworld. He had infected it such that when he died, the entire plane of existence collapsed. It would have shattered our world, too, but Graelyn sacrificed herself to save us. The seelie—some call them light elves—are the remnants of Graelyn’s spirit and the essence of the Fae who died in the Otherworld. Of all the seelie, Aradma seems to have the strongest presence of the Dragon inside her.”

  Kaldor stared at her for a long moment.

  “I would like to meet this Aradma,” he said. “I would like that very much. I wish…”

  That’s not you, he told himself. Archurion and Graelyn had been mates. That’s not you, and she isn’t her.

  “No. Later. Yes, that makes sense now, thank you,” he told Arda. “Another thing we hadn’t accounted for. If Graelyn had dominated Sidhna the way Eldrikura did Valkrage, would the Otherworld have disintegrated? Could Aaron have succeeded enough even though he was not yet a god? Maybe Graelyn’s failure allowed her to continue to live and be abl
e save Ahmbren when the Otherworld collapsed… I’m sorry. I’m just speculating now.”

  He scratched his bald head before continuing. “After Taer Iriliandrel came back to Erindil, I waited for Valkrage. I expected to see him, but he did not show. A day later, a different high elf came to the tower, a sidhe named Tindron. He had said he was Valkrage’s assistant, and that he had been given instructions: should Taer Iriliandrel return and Valkrage die, he was to deliver me a message. He gave me a scroll, and then left me alone.

  “When I touched the scroll, it burned to ash. In its smoke, an apparition of Valkrage appeared. He told me that if I were seeing this, the plan had succeeded and Klrain was dead, but Valkrage had not survived.”

  “A ghost!” Oriand exclaimed.

  “No,” Kaldor responded. “A stored message. A recording. It’s like writing on paper, but instead the wizard is the pen and Time is the parchment. It’s not an uncommon technique.

  “In any case, he said that there was a final thing left undone. He had unlocked a secret of the Kairantheum, but even there he did not trust revealing the information. He had stored the knowledge in something called ‘Athra’s Jewel,’ a thing that not even the gods could read. I don’t know what that means, but he did tell me where to find it.”

  “In the desert,” Arda stated.

  “Yes. In a vault.”

  “What is the Kairantheum?” Anuit asked.

  “It is the thing in which the gods live and have their being. The Otherworld captured dreams and feelings in a very diffuse way, and eventually formed the Fae—did the Kairantheum respond in a similar way to the hopes and prayers of mortals in order to create the gods? I don’t know, but I suspect Valkrage unlocked the mystery.

  “Whatever the truth is, the gods are powerful, and they are real. Whatever mystery Valkrage has hidden for us to discover will be dangerous just knowing it. Even what I’ve told you is a threat to the gods and their worshippers. Be careful to whom you repeat this.”

  “Is the sultan aware of this?” Arda suddenly asked. “We were to see him before you had us diverted.”

  Kaldor chuckled. “No, not really. The sultan is a meddler, as are all rulers when it comes to power, wealth, and knowledge. He knows I’m here but doesn’t know where. I don’t know how he knows, but somehow word got to him of my call to paladins. It’s possible someone else got the message I left and spoke of it to the wrong person. He hoped you would lead him to me, and I’ve no desire to be hindered by politics right now. I intend to leave tomorrow morning. I would welcome your help, but I’ll go alone if necessary.”

  “I will go with you,” Arda said. She looked at Anuit.

  Anuit nodded. “Yes. How can I not?”

  Kaldor turned to the troll woman. “Oriand, do you still intend to kill me?”

  Oriand stared at him for a long moment. Intense thoughtfulness was the only expression on her face. “Not today,” she finally said. “I wish to go and see this ‘Athra’s Jewel.’”

  23 - Submission

  When Seredith translocated back to Windbowl and told Aiella of the hungerbound invasion of Kriegsholm, the duchess sent a rider to Hearthholm informing King Donogan that vampires once again threatened the kingdom’s borders. She then ordered what troops she could muster to Kriegsholm’s defense.

  Ten days later, Rajamin returned. Hylda happened to be leaving the castle when the carriage pulled up to the steps. Rajamin jumped out of the cart, wearing only his simple harness and cape over his short rodent body, and bounced up the front stairs of the castle. Hylda thought for a moment that he had been scampering on all fours. The horses looked exhausted.

  Why is he alone? she thought in a panic. She turned and rushed to follow him. “Where are the others?” she shouted at him. “Where’s Attaris? Why aren’t they with you?”

  “The duchess!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Where’s Duchess Aiella?”

  “She’s in the audience chamber.” Hylda replied. She ran behind the ratling, but even with her longer legs, it was harder to keep pace. She hadn’t imagined it. He was scampering.

  Aiella still sat in the duke’s chair, listening to Captain Kaern’s report. She ran the duchy in the duke’s absence. She was a good match for Montevin and supported his rule. As a wizard, she certainly had a keen mind, and after they had been married, she had proved able to separate her personal interests, and those of the magic academy, from the larger responsibilities of governance. She even supported the duke’s decision to train Seredith in the magic arts, though she had not approved of allowing the revenant to live.

  Captain Kaern, the wolven commander of Windbowl’s forces, looked back in undisguised irritation as Rajamin rushed into the grand hall, chittering in ratlike squeaks and chirps. Kaern still wore traditional plate armor, even though he preferred firearms when he fought. He usually shifted to wolven form only when an opponent closed range with him. His face turned from irritation to concern when he saw Hylda hurry in after the ratling.

  “Answer me!” Hylda shouted again in an uncharacteristic drop of decorum. “Why isn’t Attaris with you?”

  Aiella stood in reaction to Hylda’s question. “Where is my duke?”

  Rajamin stopped before the bottom step of the dais leading to the ducal seat. He bent over panting and clutching his knees. Hylda realized he had left his staff in the carriage in his rush inside the castle. That was bad.

  “My lady,” he said. “My duchess.” He panted again, and then straightened. His eyes glimmered with moisture. “Duke Montevin has fallen.”

  Aiella clutched her chest and stumbled. Captain Kaern rushed to her side and caught her. She sank back down in the chair.

  “Where is his body?”

  Rajamin shook his head. “My lady—”

  “I would look upon his body!” she shouted.

  “Duchess,” Rajamin whispered. “His body is burned. He would have turned.”

  Aiella fell off the chair to her knees and wailed.

  “Rajamin,” Hylda prompted. “What of the troops we sent?”

  “I passed them on the way. When I left, Attaris was still alive. He stayed to fight with the townsfolk.”

  “And Jorey?”

  “Jorey and his family were alive ten days ago.”

  Hylda’s heart skipped in fear. A cold knot tightened in her stomach. Ten days. So much could have happened in ten days. Light, please watch over him, she prayed.

  * * *

  Aradma and Yinkle walked with Fernwalker beneath the snowy pines, not far from their home. Suleima had taken Odoune to Windbowl to show him the city and the temple. Odoune had also wanted to meet with Duke Montevin, for the last time they had spoken had been nine years ago. Aradma had been new to the world, and Odoune had threatened the safety of the city in order to find her. The druid now wanted to make sure there was peace between him and the duchy.

  “I’m glad Odoune came,” Fernwalker said. They walked down a gentle mountain slope. From there they could see the expanse of the crater valley with Windbowl’s castle in the distance across Crystalmere Lake.

  “I am too,” Aradma said.

  “Are you going to get married like Hylda and Attaris?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Aradma replied. “We love each other very much, but not as mates.”

  “Is it because of Tiberan?” Yinkle asked.

  Aradma felt a little wince of sadness. “In a way,” she acknowledged.

  “Hylda says you have to be married to have kids,” Fernwalker said. “Why don’t they have children yet?”

  Aradma couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh sweetie. I don’t know. Not everyone is as lucky as I am.” She tousled Fernwalker’s green ponytails.

  “Then why are they married?” her daughter asked.

  “Hylda and Attaris are dwarven. That’s what they believe. That kind of love is for two people who commit to each other as a family, whether they have children or not.”

  “You and Odoune weren’t married. Was I a mistake?”<
br />
  “Oh sweetie, no. You are not a mistake.” Aradma squeezed her daughter’s shoulder warmly. “We are not dwarves.”

  Their walk took them back to the house. “I wish they had kids,” Fernwalker said after some thought. “It would be nice to have someone to play with when they come over. I’ll bet a dwarven girl would be shorter than me. That would be cute.”

  Aradma smiled. “I’m sure it would.”

  Fernwalker stood still for a moment, but when it became apparent that Aradma didn’t have anything more to add on the subject, she wandered off to the far end of the garden to play. Aradma and Yinkle leaned back against the stone wall, watching the young girl make tiny snow-people and summon clovers at their feet.

  “She’s already channeling,” remarked Yinkle.

  Aradma nodded. “For some time now. She wants to be a druid.”

  “Of course she does,” Yinkle chuckled. “She worships you.”

  There was a moment of silence as the two women watched the girl play. Then Yinkle turned to Aradma and looked up at her.

  “It’s not just dwarven,” Yinkle said.

  Aradma stared down at her. “What?”

  “What you said earlier. ‘That kind of love’ being for people who make a family. Humans think that, too, and we’re in human lands. Is this why you have taken no companion in nine years?”

  Aradma considered. “No. Dwarves and humans may be similar in this, especially in Hammerfold. But even here, humans have more leeway for individual choices. For dwarves, it’s required by tradition. No, human concerns are not why I have remained celibate.”

  “Is it an elven reason? Do elves forbid finding something more… casual?”

  Aradma reflected on this. Attaris had described the sidhe to her, what little he knew of them. He had even visited one of their few remaining cities once in his younger years before the fall of the Empire.

  “Light elves are different from the sidhe somehow,” Aradma finally said. “The sidhe don’t have marriage, not in the way we think about it. They are intimate only when they want children. They can have children with more than one partner, but that is rare because, in their long lives, the choice to have even one child is rare. Every child is a lifelong commitment and forms a family bond. For them, the child is the marriage. They believe the individual is a sovereign nation unto herself. The sidhe do not have casual relationships. They say a child is a treaty between nations. We seelie are all different. Our needs and views are individual, like the humans who embraced our people—but we have no traditions of our own. We are a young race.”