When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  Anuit frowned. “Like the ones in Valkrage’s vault?”

  “Yes, but since when do troglodytes come aboveground?”

  “Oh, Aradma,” Anuit murmured. “What’s become of you?”

  Belham returned to Anuit’s side. “Mistress, there are tunnels beneath the surface connected to this sinkhole,” he stated. “The dirt that blocks your way only covers a small emergence tunnel.”

  “Their shamans can shape and move through earth like water,” Arda stated. “I’ve seen them do it. Some of them can summon fresh earth to block passages and channel their prey.”

  “They must have come up and then closed the hole again—”

  “—to slow anyone who might follow,” Arda finished for her. “We didn’t bring shovels.”

  “You want to go down there?” Anuit raised an eyebrow. “The last time we fought troglodytes, we were sorely outnumbered… and that was with Kaldor!”

  Arda rose from her crouch. Her knees complained at the sudden extension, and she placed her hands on her waist, stretching her back. She wasn’t getting any younger. “If Aradma’s down there, yes. We have no other leads.”

  “Fine,” Anuit sighed. “I know you’re right. I can get us into the tunnels. Let me know when you’re ready.”

  Arda nodded and continued searching the rest of the site. It wasn’t that she thought Belham missed something, but she didn’t trust him. He had reported the most salient observation, however, one that they wouldn’t have discovered on their own. Once she was satisfied that there were no other details he missed aboveground, she turned to her lover. “Let’s go,” she said.

  Anuit closed her eyes and took Arda’s hands. She summoned a liquid globe of blackness, casting them both in impenetrable darkness. Suddenly, Arda felt as if the chill of winter’s ice had been plunged through her veins, and she had a brief moment of disorientation. She knew what Anuit had done. The sorceress had shadowjumped, translocating them from one space of darkness to another. The floor beneath Arda’s feet no longer felt like the soft earth above. She now stood on stone.

  Once they stepped out from Anuit’s summoned globe of shadow, Arda’s darkling eyes allowed her to see in the natural darkness of the tunnels. She knew Anuit’s sorcery granted her sight in the pitch black as well. She had a momentarily distracting thought of the time they were together in Erindil, before they had admitted their love for each other, each looking at the other in a dark bedroom and each thinking the other couldn’t see her staring. The paladin chuckled and then put the thought aside.

  Anuit summoned her other demon, the succubus Bryona, who appeared wearing the conservative high-collared dress of a proper lady. Her wings swept behind her, and her smooth horns curved in graceful arcs from her forehead. Like Arda, Bryona also had a tail, but wickedly barbed at the end. The slit up the left side of her dress revealed naked hips and furred, cloven-hoofed feet whose hair extended halfway up her thigh like natural boots.

  “Just in case,” Anuit said. “We could use an extra hand in a fight.”

  Bryona was a demon whose purpose was seduction and deception, but she was still a demon. Her physical power was considerable. Arda had seen her fight before with the hidden blade sheathed in her parasol.

  I’m sleeping with a sorceress in danger of becoming a demon, and fighting alongside two more demons, she thought wryly to herself. I’m going to paladin hell. But Kaldor had told them both to trust in love before he died. At the same time, he had passed Archurion’s seal to Arda, a spiritual charge of some sort. He said it made her the incarnate Seal of Light, but she still didn’t really know what the hell that meant.

  Can the Seal of Light go to hell?

  She would find out, she supposed. She wasn’t going to leave the sorceress, especially after everything they had been through together.

  The tunnel path ran north and south, following the edge of a deep chasm. Arda peered over the edge. It was too steep to navigate.

  “It’s a good thing we didn’t shadowjump a little to the left,” Anuit said, eyeing Belham. Her voice echoed. She put her fingers to her lips.

  “Look,” Arda whispered. Strewn about on the ground were more dead gypsies and the remnants of another wagon. In the dust of the floor, Arda saw a mass of clawed footsteps all trampling over each other, and the ruts of fresh wagon tracks. “Not all of them are dead. The caravan continued into the depths.”

  “I think we’ve found her,” Anuit responded softly. “At least, what’s happened to her.”

  “It’s the best lead so far,” Arda agreed. She followed the tracks around a winding bend in the trail. The path narrowed beside the cliff, but it never got smaller than the width of the wagon tracks.

  They turned the corner in the darkness and heard a muffled moaning off to the side. A pile of what looked like rags hid in the shadows between two rock outcroppings.

  Arda knelt. A human woman huddled in the dark. She couldn’t see, but she had obviously heard them. Her eyes stared widely from her old wrinkled face, trying to pierce the shadows of the cave tunnels.

  “The gypsy crone,” Anuit whispered.

  The woman tensed up when she heard the sorceress. She pushed herself farther back in the rock crevice.

  Arda knelt down and spoke softly. “It’s okay,” she told the old woman. “We’re friends.” She opened her hand and channeled the Light, cradling a soft glow in her palm. “We’re not here to hurt you. Can you tell us what happened?”

  “It was him,” the crone whispered. “The black elf betrayed us.”

  “Athaym?” Anuit asked.

  Arda cocked her head. Now that Anuit mentioned it, she realized they had only seen gypsy corpses. The colorful unseelie who had come into Windbowl with the caravans were not in their number.

  “Yes,” the gypsy coughed. “We thought… I thought… he would not turn on us.”

  “Athaym has Aradma!” Arda exclaimed. “Why would another seelie take her?”

  “There were two women he took who were not among the unseelie,” the crone replied. “A sidhe and another seelie. Yes, I think the seelie was the one you call Aradma.”

  “And the sidhe?”

  The crone shook her head. She pulled in a slow, deep breath. “A dead thing.”

  The vampire queen. Sidhna.

  “Are you sure it was Athaym who took them and not the vampire?” Anuit questioned.

  The crone choked on bitter laughter. “Oh no, he was always in control. He made the dead sidhe nothing more than his plaything, just like the unseelie.”

  Arda shook her head incredulously. “I have a hard time believing that,” she said. She remembered their battle with Sidhna and how the vampire queen had survived the combined magics of Kaldor, Aradma, Arda, and Anuit. She couldn’t imagine anyone able to control the undead woman so easily. Aradma was the most powerful light elf Arda knew, and even she was no match for the vampire elf.

  “That’s because you don’t know him,” the crone responded. “He is the Black Dragon.”

  Arda bolted upright and stared down at the woman, shocked into stillness. “What do you mean?” she finally asked. “Klrain was killed. The Shadowlord killed him. The Black Dragon is dead.”

  The gypsy chuckled. “Is that what you think?”

  “Where did they go?” Anuit interjected.

  “It doesn’t matter,” the old woman said. “Deep into the bowels of Ahmbren. His troglodytes came and took us. He didn’t need us anymore. He had his prize.”

  Troglodytes. It made sense now. They had worshipped the Black Dragon in the First Age. They would come to the surface for him.

  “Leave me to die,” the crone spat.

  Arda looked down at her with pity. She knelt and took her hands, offering what comfort she could. “At least let me ease your pain,” she said. Arda allowed the Light to flow through her arms and into the old woman.

  The gypsy sighed. Her eyes opened and she stared up at the darkling. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “She knew Atha
ym was Klrain,” Anuit stated coldly, “and she still led him into Windbowl.”

  Arda looked up at her lover and reached out, squeezing her hand. “We all have done evil.”

  Anuit pressed her lips taut. She could say nothing to that.

  “Are you so sure she’s right?” Arda asked.

  “I don’t know.” Anuit shook her head. “But something in her words feels true to me. I feel a tremor in the Dark. I believe her when she says he’s connected to the Black Dragon somehow.”

  “And he has Aradma,” Arda said grimly. “We can waste no more time here.”

  Anuit put her hand on Arda’s shoulder. “Love,” she said softly, “we can’t go after her.”

  Arda stood and looked into the eyes of the sorceress. Her heart stopped for a moment and her breath caught short as she processed what Anuit said. After a long pause, she asked slowly, “What do you mean? We can’t abandon her.”

  Anuit took a deep breath. “Kaldor—there was something more important than her.”

  “Artalon.”

  “If he’s Klrain… I mean, really Klrain, what chance do you and I have alone? Our only hope is to return to Artalon and try to unlock its magic. We need to bring balance to the Kairantheum.”

  The gods are mad, Arda remembered.

  “Because what if he gets there first?” Anuit continued. “And you and I, like this, chasing him into the dark when he has an army of troglodytes…”

  Arda clenched her fists. Anuit was making sense, but she hated it. How could she abandon Aradma to her fate?

  “Artalon is the key to controlling the gods,” Anuit reminded her. “If we can do that, we can defeat the last remnant of the Black Dragon and save Aradma. The other way is folly.”

  “When did you become so pragmatic?” Arda asked.

  Anuit cocked her head to the side. “I’ve always been pragmatic,” she replied. “Except when it came to you.”

  Darkness is not always evil. Arda remembered Kaldor’s words. She looked long at her lover. Sometimes light could blind you to the truth, and you needed the relief of darkness to see the shape of things.

  Arda nodded. “I don’t like it.” She was about to acquiesce when nausea knotted her stomach. “I can’t,” she choked. “I can’t abandon her.”

  “But—”

  “No. I know you’re right. But I can’t. We have a trail now, and I can’t let it go cold.”

  Anuit frowned. “This is a mistake.”

  “Perhaps,” Arda replied. “But you’re right. We can’t both go.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m going on alone,” Arda told her. “I’ll be careful, I promise. You must go back and tell Odoune and Attaris what we’ve learned. Take her with you.”

  Anuit looked down at the crone in disgust. “You want me to take her, and leave you here?”

  Arda nodded. She slipped her hands around Anuit’s waist. “Don’t wait for me. Go to Artalon and unlock its mysteries.”

  “How?” Anuit asked incredulously, forgetting to whisper. Her voice echoed once more through the chasm. She quieted before continuing. “Kaldor’s dead, Valkrage couldn’t figure it out, and there are few we can even trust anymore.”

  “You’ll find a way,” Arda insisted. “Take Odoune and Oriand. Find the gnome, Kristafrost. The gnomes built Artalon. Maybe she can help.”

  Anuit stared dumbly at her. “You won’t abandon Aradma, but you want me to abandon you?”

  Arda pulled Anuit close and kissed her. She then held her tight and whispered into her ear. “Go. Be pragmatic for me this time. I will come home to you.” She kissed the two tears that moistened Anuit’s cheeks. “Go,” she said again.

  “Damn you, Arda!” Anuit pushed her away and then unsummoned her two demons. She knelt beside the crone, then the two of them vanished as the sorceress shadowjumped back to the surface.

  Arda stood alone on the cavern path. She extinguished the Light’s glow, returning to the darkness, and quietly followed the wagon tracks into the depths.

  4 - Frontier Hospitality

  Glaeghindee was a small trading outpost at the edge of Icecap Forest. It stood as a northern frontier town of Hammerfold, serving trappers and hunters that ventured even farther north to the Ice Plains. Even though the Realm of Hammerfold—before Hammerfold had been dissolved into smaller states—had claimed the lands all the way to the Ice Mountains, the rule of law only reached as far as Glaeghindee. The town was a series of log cabins and wooden houses clustered close together at the forest’s edge. It had no outer walls, and the streets were open to those who wandered in from the wilderness.

  A sea of blue and gold summer flowers carpeted out from the edge of the forest and extended past the city. Young children played in the flower beds. Obviously, the town did not feel threatened by the affairs of the world.

  In some ways, it reminded Tiberan of the Vemnai’s jungle villages. The building construction was plain enough but suited for the environment. There was no pretense of grandeur. He felt strangely comforted by this.

  The three of them walked into the city, and the children gathered when they saw him and the tiger. They didn’t get too close, respectful of the great cat, but neither could they ignore the strange sight that wandered in from the plains. Most of the children were darklings, with solid red eyes, horns of various shapes from their temples and foreheads, and tails trailing behind them.

  Tiberan noted the simple icons hanging on wooden signs above some on the building doors. A wide two-story structure showed a bed and a goblet. He pushed the saloon’s wooden door open and entered, followed by Keira and Ghost. By now, Keira had shifted back into her human form.

  The innkeeper sat behind the bar, elbows on the bar top and head propped up in his hands. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be snoring. His long handlebar mustache trembled with each breath, and the tip of his chin sported salt-and-pepper whiskers. He listed to the side, and when he was about to fall off his propped up hands, he pulled himself back to the center, all the while staying asleep. His darkling horns were unusually short, curling back close to his head.

  A brick oven glowed with a few small embers, and a fresh set of thick sticks had been thrown on to keep the fire going. They had not yet caught the flame and sat there mildly smoking as they made up their mind whether or not to accept their fiery fate.

  The man snorted, breaking off in midsnore as he started awake. His pitch-black eyes widened when he saw the three of them.

  “Oh, oh!” he exclaimed. “Travelers. So sorry.” He stood up straight. “What can I do for you?”

  Tiberan folded his arms across his chest. “I’m afraid we have ill news. There was a darkling hunting party not far from here that met with tragedy today. I suspect they came from here, unless there are more towns nearby?”

  The man shook his head. “No, not for a hundred… wait. Tragedy?”

  Tiberan nodded gravely.

  The man shuddered. “Yalitta!” he called out. “Yalitta!” He shouted louder the second time.

  A rather plump darkling woman entered the room from the back. Her horns spiraled in three corkscrew curls each before reaching their full length. Her braided pigtails hung from the tips of the horns before falling in large suspended loops. It made an odd picture, but she had a cute enough face to forgive the eccentricity of her choice of hairstyle.

  “What is it, Rolaf?” she asked. Her solid-red eyes turned in worry when she saw the three companions. She clutched at a pendant that hung in the valley of her plump bosom. “Are we being robbed?”

  “No, Yalitta,” he said. “I think something’s happened to Tuney.”

  She gasped. “What?”

  Tiberan recounted the story of the ground opening up and the horde of troglodytes that took the hunting party. Yalitta started to cry. “Oh, Tuney…”

  “Tuney’s her brother,” Rolaf explained gravely. “What did you say took them?”

  “I suspect they were troglodytes,” Tiberan said. “They re
turned to the earth, and I believe they headed north.”

  Rolaf shook his head sadly. “Well, that’s something at least,” he said. “Not headed here then.”

  Tiberan shook his head. “I can’t know for sure, but I don’t think so. Who is your town leader?”

  “The closest thing to that would be Tallindra,” Yalitta said, wiping her eyes. “She’s a sidhe wizard. She’ll want to hear this.” She eyed Tiberan and the tiger. “And see you too, I imagine.”

  Tiberan tensed. “I’ve no desire to see the sidhe,” he said. “Please pass on our warning. We’ll continue north.”

  “At least rest the night,” Rolaf protested.

  Keira shot Tiberan a glance. “It would be nice,” she added.

  Tiberan shook his head again. “No,” he repeated. “Stay here if you will, but I’ve no desire to be caught up with the sidhe. The last time I met one, it didn’t go well.” He gave Keira a meaningful look.

  She crossed her arms. “Fine. They can’t be all as bad as Valkrage, but have it your way.”

  “We mean you no harm,” a woman’s clear voice said from the doorway. A sidhe woman, a little under five-and-a-half-feet tall, stood in the entrance to the saloon.

  “Tallindra!” Rolaf exclaimed. “How did you know to come so quickly?”

  “The children told me,” the high elf replied. She had amber eyes and light honey-blond hair. “I think they were more excited about the tiger than the elf.” Her ears were the normal long length of elven ears, but instead of sharpening to points, their tips were rounded and flat. They extended at a slight fall towards the ground, reminding Tiberan of narrow, floppy rabbit ears. A necklace of large, smooth-cut sapphires hung like drops of water on her chest, dangling below the neckline of a low-cut gown. She looked young to Tiberan, but he realized guessing her age would be difficult.

  He watched the sidhe cautiously. Keira tensed, and he laid a comforting hand on the wolven’s shoulder to calm her lest she shift into lupine form. No need to cause alarm if they truly weren’t in danger. He realized it was his own caution getting the better of him. None of the people in this room were giving off any signs of tension. Even Ghost felt at ease, and the tiger certainly would have picked up on subtle visual cues. Tiberan relaxed, and felt Keira too settle beneath his palm.