When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  The eye’s pupil was long, slit like a troglodyte’s, and its iris was a swath of rich gold over its pure milky-white. Naiadne felt dizzy, swimming in the depths of that black slit pupil. It seemed as if she stared into the heart of the Void itself. She knew that was silly, a trick of her mind, yet suddenly she felt uncertain about what she was doing here. What was she doing here? She didn’t know, precisely. She had only been told she would be special to the tower.

  “Step forward,” Athaym commanded.

  The eye lowered in front of her. As Naiadne hesitantly did as she was told, the eye moved back, as if beckoning her to the center. She could see Athaym’s reflection in the orb’s pupil. She stopped at the threshold of the brain.

  “More,” Athaym said. “You must join with the brood queen. You will give her the ability to touch the Dark, and she will give you power you cannot imagine.”

  Naiadne took a deep breath. She wanted to close her eyes, but by force of will, she kept them open. She clenched her fists and held her arms stiff at her side. She nodded firmly and placed her naked feet on the soft, juicy surface of the brain’s folds.

  She wrinkled her eyes as the folds gave way, and her feet sank to their ankles within the rolling crevices. She stepped forward, hearing a slurp each time she lifted her legs and planted them again.

  The sprouting tendrils from the brain’s folds bent towards her, lightly stroking her body. They sent little tingling charges of electricity that tickled her skin.

  A low hum, deep and rich, sang through the tower’s halls. For the first time, Naiadne saw from where those sounds came. Each of the membranes in the entryways flapped and vibrated together.

  Larynxes.

  Suddenly, the yellow filaments wrapped around her tightly. They pulled her down, pressing her body against the brain. She struggled, twisting and turning, and saw her father staring at her without expression.

  “Father?” she cried out, confused. Was this what he wanted?

  The tingling from the tendrils grew in intensity, and she gasped. It wasn’t exactly painful, but the discomfort ran deep. She felt little… things… grow from the tendrils and bury themselves in her skin. Their warm touch spread through her muscles and into her bones. Something crept along her spine.

  “Father?” she cried again, this time louder. Then she screamed, “Help me!”

  Those feelers moved into her spine, touching the nerves that ran to the core of her body. She seized as a lance of fire shot to her toes, and then all sensation stopped. Her body felt far away.

  She sank deeper into the folds of flesh until only her face remained uncovered. The wet slime of the brain’s walls sealed tightly around her chin and cheeks. It didn’t pull her deeper, leaving her face exposed so she could breath. Her mind felt disconnected, thick, as if she was in the midst of sleep, yet awake at the same time. Athaym turned and left her alone in the hall as the brain of the tower continued to penetrate and bond with her nervous system.

  Then, even though her eyes were open, she lost her vision. This was a darkness even her sorcerous sight could not penetrate.

  Her mind floated, and she felt another presence slither in the core of her being.

  Taer Koorla moved inside her now.

  20 - Infiltration

  Anuit waited, hovering on the flying carpet high outside of Artalon looking down on the nighttime skyline. Lights twinkled in the towers here and there, some magical, some simple torchlight. God Spire glowed brilliantly, bathed in the aura of floating sidhe glow-globes such that there were no shadows outside, or inside, of the central tower.

  Oriand stood on the flying carpet beside the sorceress. Anuit was glad for the overcast sky. That would make things a bit easier. Of course, a “bit” was relative when you considered bringing a task from extremely difficult down to dangerously challenging. Anuit wove shadow around the two of them, cloaking them from those that might have too keen an eye, even though she made it a point to keep high above the city.

  Arda waited for her inside the central tower, already in the secret halls of God Spire. The two of them had found the halls with Belham’s assistance. Kristafrost had finally come around to helping them get into God Spire, despite Cloudmoore’s prohibition against any nongnomish incursion into sidhe territory. The gnomish agent was fed up with her own people’s inability to trust the other races with their precious Artalon, even when the high elves held its center.

  Until recently, God Spire had been impenetrable. Through attrition, the sidhe defenses had finally weakened, and though they still held command of the tower, their defenses were not as complete, not as solid, as they used to be.

  The companions had made small incursions at first until, finally just a few days ago, they had gained true access. Once inside God Spire, Belham sensed and revealed a hidden way into dark halls that seemed to be suspended halfway outside of Time in the upper middle levels of the building. Time didn’t flow at a different rate inside them, thankfully, but it seemed to pass somewhat in parallel, interfused with Dark energy. Belham perceived a portal even Anuit had a hard time sensing and gained access into an ancient archive from the days of the Darkling Empire.

  Inside this place, they were hidden from the sidhe. The only problem: they were nearly stuck, with neither food nor water. And there were countless books. It would take time, and Anuit had known they would need Oriand to help sift through their pages. The troll’s ability to digest and correlate information was unparalleled, a surprising discovery in the past ten years.

  Oriand wasn’t the only one to expand her knowledge. In the ensuing years since Kaldor’s death, Anuit had pursued more than just sorcery. She had developed her magical weaving art and unlocked the secret of holding bags that were larger on the inside than the outside. She had a small satchel slung over her shoulder, but within it were weeks of food and water.

  There wouldn’t be much time to enter the tower once the signal was given. She had to be careful. The sidhe had magic born from centuries of fighting the sorcerers of the Darkling Empire. They knew darkness was their enemy, and their floating glow-globes dispelled shadows in and around the tower. Anuit could have shadowjumped into God Spire, but she would have had to create darkness inside, blindly guessing her destination. A floating sphere of shadow in the middle of a well-lit hall would be so obvious as to draw immediate sidhe attention. No, she wanted to get inside without them knowing, and that wouldn’t be easy considering the streaming blue and red fire of the circling sidhe patrols.

  She saw Kristafrost’s gyrothopter light its flares and then dive towards the base of God Spire. They wanted the sidhe to think this was a gnomish infiltration operation—one that failed—rather than a sorceress successfully sneaking inside. The sidhe transformed into living fire and took off after her, and Kristafrost spun her craft, twisting here and there to dodge fireballs launched from wands. She dropped her smoke bombs, covering the ground around the building in thick layers of mist, as if to cover a gnomish ground advance. The smoke shrouded the lower glow-globes, and some of the spire’s light faded.

  It was time. Anuit leaned forward, and the carpet shot forth, staying high and descending towards a midlevel balcony. She only hoped the sidhe were looking at the misty ground rather than looking up and around. With so much light, she would be obvious to anyone not drawn in by the deception.

  * * *

  Eszhira knew her mission was dangerous. Yes, she was infiltrating God Spire behind enemy lines, but that wasn’t the only reason. The gnomes of Cloudmoore, even though they fought against the sidhe beside the Hammerfoldians, insisted that they would be the only ones allowed in the upper levels of God Spire once it was taken. Eszhira had been adopted by Cloudmoore, and she was betraying them by helping Arda, Anuit, and now Oriand investigate the tower beneath the nose of both sidhe and gnomes. Kristafrost had toed the line for the first five years of the war, but after it was clear Cloudmoore was putting no efforts towards exploring Artalon, and was instead more interested in keeping others from mak
ing progress against the sidhe, she started operating behind the scenes.

  Penetrating sidhe territory wasn’t easy. They had wards that disrupted magical invisibility, rendering Kristafrost’s enchanted ring ineffective. Eszhira’s ability to fade from view was another kind of magic altogether, and she alone could sneak past sidhe lines unseen.

  Their job was to provide a distraction so Anuit could slip in with the gnomes of Cloudmoore none the wiser. They wouldn’t go in with her this time but would remain outside to run interference as needed. Besides, they had missions to run for Cloudmoore as well, and winning the war for Artalon was still important.

  Kristafrost’s fireworks went off on the lower tower, causing two of the hovering sidhe guards to stream towards the low bridge. The gnomish agent dropped smoke bombs to cover the surrounding streets, and then Eszhira could see the blur of Anuit’s carpet racing towards her above the tower tops while the enemy was focused on the bridge and smoke-covered ground. The sidhe weren’t easily fooled. They quickly recognized whatever was going on as a diversion of some sort and spread out. More sidhe fire streamed in, streaking through the air in blazes of red and blue, and circled the tower.

  This was where Eszhira came in. She was already deep inside God Spire, standing invisible beside a wizard who leaned over and watched the commotion hundreds of feet below. She stood behind him, less than an arm’s reach away. He looked up for a moment, and his eyes widened. She knew he’d suddenly noticed Anuit’s magic carpet rushing down upon him.

  He tried to raise his wand, but Eszhira reached out and snatched it from his grasp, tossing it over the edge. He started in surprise, fumbling, then falling forward. He would have caught himself on the balcony rail—had Eszhira not swept his arms out from under him while at the same time placing her left palm on the flat of his rump and pushing him over the side.

  * * *

  Anuit rushed at the balcony. She almost pulled up when she saw the wizard standing there in the center, looking over the edge. All he had to do was look up… but she decided to press forward. Eszhira had told her she would be waiting for their arrival. The sorceress had to trust the seelie to keep her word.

  The elven wizard looked up, and his eyes widened in shock. He lifted his wand to unleash a spell, but suddenly his hand flew open, empty. The wand fell over the side into the smoky haze below.

  Bless you, Eszhira, Anuit thought as they sped into their target.

  After grabbing the wand, Eszhira appeared and sent him tumbling over the edge. He might have survived with a flying spell, if only he had his wand. One less high elf to contend with.

  Anuit landed quickly, and the two of them stepped off the carpet. Oriand waited silently as Anuit rolled the rug into a small square and then dropped it into her holding bag.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered.

  Eszhira nodded. She faded back into invisibility and scouted ahead as Anuit guided Oriand through the halls. Twice, Eszhira came back and had them wait and hide as sidhe passed by. When the path cleared, the seelie prompted them to move again.

  They were almost there when a high elf rounded the corner and spotted Anuit and Oriand. He raised his wand. Oriand grabbed Anuit and threw her to the ground as fire passed over their heads.

  Anuit channeled the souls of the dead, and darkness flooded the hall. A bolt of shadow streamed from her open palm and hit the sidhe’s chest. He sputtered as the shadow sucked his life force, to be devoured by the Void. His skin withered and dried, and he slumped to the ground.

  “Run!” Eszhira was suddenly at their side. “There are more coming, and there’s no helping it now. They know you’re here. Get to the entrance; I’ll draw them off!”

  Anuit hesitated.

  “Run!” Eszhira cried again. “Get Oriand to safety. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine!” She disappeared to the side, and then, when a second elf rounded the corner, she appeared behind him and drew her blade across his throat. “Go!” she shouted a third time as she released his body to the ground.

  Anuit grabbed Oriand’s hand and bolted towards the opposite end of the hall. They were nearly there.

  Belham appeared and flew ahead of her. He channeled a few strands of the Dark, and the air wavered in front of them as he established the connection between God Spire and its hidden halls of sorcery.

  She heard the mercurial language of magic behind her, and she knew she had seconds to live. She closed her eyes, plunged the entire hall into pitch black, then shadowjumped inside the Darkling Empire’s library.

  Once inside, she stumbled, nearly knocking Arda over. Arda held Anuit in her arms as the sorceress caught her breath. Belham closed the doorway behind them, and the halls once again shifted slightly away from God Spire’s space-time.

  Anuit gathered herself and looked into Arda’s eyes. She couldn’t help but grin, despite the danger outside, and Arda grinned back, beautiful despite the five scars that ran diagonally over her face. Anuit was glad Arda never let those scars get to her. Lesser women would have bemoaned them, but Arda was not a lesser woman. A strangely random thought to have in the midst of danger, Anuit reflected. Well, they had been at war for a decade now, and humor, relief, and cheer interwove tightly between fear, determination, and courage. It all blended together.

  Arda hugged her. “I’m glad you’re back. These books start to play tricks on your mind when you’re alone.”

  Anuit gave her a grim look.

  “Trouble?” the paladin asked.

  “The sidhe know we’re here,” Anuit said. “And Ezzie… she got us in—I hope she escapes.”

  Arda nodded. “She’s capable,” the paladin said, “but it won’t be easy. Let’s make sure whatever we find is worth the risk she and Kristafrost took in getting us here.”

  “How long do you think we have before the sidhe figure out a way in?” Oriand asked.

  Arda suddenly grinned. “I think we have plenty of time. If Valkrage wasn’t able to find this place, there’s no way they’re getting in anytime soon.” Then she looked at Anuit’s holding bag. “You brought food, didn’t you? I’m fucking hungry.”

  21 - Dark Life

  Graelyn spread the nutrient jelly over the eggs with the palms of her hands. She was a prisoner here, stripped of her power and at the mercy of the Black Dragon’s remnant.

  She was trapped, unable to leave—she had tried, and been punished. He allowed her the range of the tower and the city outside, but there was little to do to occupy her time. Watching Naiadne left an ache in her heart, and she preferred the solitude of labor when she could manage to get away from Athaym’s insidious words. And so, she did what came naturally. She held no love for the troglodytes, but the birthing chambers, the eggs… they soothed her maternal nature. And of everything in the city, they were the only things truly innocent. Until they hatched.

  She remembered the prison in the Otherworld. The thousand years of torture inside the Black Dragon’s mind was clear enough that the memory of pain still crept in gooseflesh over her skin, even now after a decade in the Underworld. After her time in the Otherworld, she remembered the dissolution back into the Green Dragon’s mind… and the next clear memory was being here, trapped in an elven body.

  He too was trapped in an elven body.

  She vaguely remembered the Green Dragon’s sacrifice to save Ahmbren from breaking beneath the Otherworld’s shattering and then emerging again—the dreamwalker—falling to Ahmbren alongside the other sparks of Graelyn’s soul. She had built a persona—the one called Aradma—and hid from her own self. Graelyn’s strongest memory was Klrain, whom she saw beneath the depths of Athaym’s eyes. She had suffered under him long enough to never forget.

  She knew the girl child was hers, though she felt no strong attachment. It was as if she had given birth to Naiadne in a dream but, upon awakening, found the child was not hers at all, but his. Graelyn knew that was wrong too. He wasn’t the father, but she had only vague feelings that Naiadne’s true father was dead. Her mind never sett
led long upon this thought, for it brought only undefined sorrow.

  She stood and stretched her back. The weight of the Black Dragon’s mind pressed on her temples like an inky miasma, and whispers of shadow threaded around the periphery of her vision. A side effect of the demonic bond Athaym had placed upon her.

  She remembered little from the time after her lightfall before waking up on the floor here. There were times when she thought she had another daughter, and she believed this meant it was true… but she couldn’t quite place her face or name.

  And there had been another. A man. A primal man. His name too she could not remember, but when she closed her eyes, she could clearly see his copper-skinned face, golden-blue eyes, and blond hair and beard.

  She was cut off from Life. This irritated her, but she was as patient as Life’s will to evolve. Athaym sought to break her, but he had failed. Though she didn’t precisely remember it, she understood she had given birth to Naiadne, and then he had used torture reminiscent of their time together in the Otherworld to draw her forward into this body’s conscious awareness. And once she had made herself known, he had used the Dark to cut away everything within her that had started to heal from the thousand years of suffering.

  Now she knew who she was, and she not only remembered her time in the Otherworld with him, but also the millions of years existing as a dreamwalker before that. Though she was cut off from Life, she remembered its essence clearly. It was the amalgam of the other elements together, the result of their interactions, but also its own thing. She understood its strength, its power, but most importantly, its persistent, unstoppable patience. Life always found a way to adapt. This she knew after watching millions of years of evolution during the first dragonsleep. She had been the only Archdragon not surprised to find mortal races walking the land when they awoke that first time, for she had watched them grow out of the slime and the sea while her siblings frolicked in their own private dreams.