When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  Oriand wondered who Kristafrost was that she could berate her people’s leader so freely.

  Flolum looked flustered, and stared at the ground. Then he threw up his hand. “I give up, Aunt Krista. Fine. We’ll play it your way.” He fluttered his fingers, and the manacles fell off of Tallindra’s wrists and vanished.

  “Tallindra,” Kristafrost instructed—she would know the enemy war captains—“Stand with the kings like you’re together. Then invite the construct in and hear what she has to say. Oriand, come to the front. You’ve read more extensively than any of us. Your perspective will be needed. Matriarch, stand with the kings as well. We need to present a united front.”

  Kristafrost hopped off the table. “Lieutenant,” she said, addressing the guard who had stood stoically watching the entire time, “Go invite the Goddess of Civilization in, and all of you, for the love of the Light, be civilized about it!”

  The lieutenant looked at the kings, unsure of whether to follow the gnome’s orders. Donogan nodded, and the guard departed.

  Moments later, Athra entered, accompanied only by her three pledged rulers. The construct surveyed the room, glowing elodian eyes pulsing with blue light. “The letters each of you received last night were delivered by Yamosh’s envoy.”

  The room grew very still.

  “The Black Dragon is coming,” she said. “Though you fight me now, I am in each of you. The things you hold dear are the things I hold dear. I am civilization… I am the reflection of your desires for civilization. If Klrain gains control of the Kairantheum, nothing else matters. We require an alliance.”

  “On this, it seems, both gods and mortals are in agreement,” Donogan replied softly. “Except the high elves.”

  Athra nodded. “It matters not,” she said. “The sidhe will fight anyone to protect the central tower. We’ll leave God Spire’s defenses to them. The rest of us will protect the city.”

  “They attack from the ground,” Oriand murmured.

  “What was that?” Donogan asked.

  The troll spoke louder. “Troglodytes. They attack from the ground. They will come up from under us.”

  Flolum snorted. “Not Artalon. The zorium disc underneath the city is impenetrable.”

  “True,” Athra confirmed, “but you read Yamosh’s letter. He abandoned Dis, and then a third of Dis’s hosts have fallen to Ahmbren. Klrain is the first sorcerer. They fight for him.”

  There was muttering in the hall. “…troglodytes!… demons!”

  “We will fight troglodytes and demons!” Thorkhan declared boldly. His broad shoulders stretched with pride. “Each of you have proved worthy adversaries before my clans. We will not falter in the face of darkness!”

  Seonna approached the table. “Come,” she said. “Let us discuss what to do with our armies.”

  Thorkhan nodded his head approvingly at his seelie wife. “No more talk of what’s already been decided,” he told them all. “Now is the time to plan how to do it.”

  Kristafrost smiled and melted back into the crowd of officers as the leaders spread over maps and fresh parchments, arguing strategy and tactics.

  Oriand felt a hand laid softly on her arm. Startled, she looked up to see Eszhira beside her.

  “Come,” Eszhira whispered. “Let them plan now. It’s time for you to come home. Your friends miss you, and we would hear of what happened to Anuit and Arda. And there’s something we need to tell you.”

  * * *

  Naiadne stood in front of Taer Koorla outside the main entrance, beside Athaym. Aradma watched from inside the tower’s entryway, arms folded and staring down at her daughter. Naiadne liked even less this new personality that emerged from her mother. The girl didn’t understand how Aradma, bound as she was to her father, could think that joy was life’s purpose. Power was life’s purpose. She found seeing love in her mother’s eyes even more disgusting. Weak. When the druid had only been the Dragon, she had not looked at her daughter with so much love and sadness.

  But that was no matter now. The troglodytes stood before her in ranks, waiting for her command. Among and above them moved the fallen hosts of Dis. Incapable of fear, the troglodytes stood unfazed by their infernal allies.

  “Why won’t you come with me, Father?” she asked Athaym.

  He knelt beside her so he could look level into her eyes. She could see his entire body tensed with excitement. “Soon,” he said. “If I go to Artalon now, amid such a concentration of people of faith, the gods would respond. They already respond by gathering armies. Remember: magic, the elements, have an ebb and flow. There is action and reaction. I am the greatest threat to the Kairantheum, and with those armies there, the Kairantheum would have enough potency to bring the gods to physical form. They are dangerous. They have the power to undo us, and if we set the conditions that allow them to confront us directly, it will be the end of us. This is why you must go. The troglodytes will devour their people, but you will lend the strength of your demons, and bring the towers together through your Dark power.”

  She nodded. “I will do you proud, Father.”

  He stood. “I know you will.” He favored her with no smile. “It’s time now,” he said. “When you have broken the city, I will come, and I will use Artalon to compel the gods to destroy the people that feed them.”

  Naiadne closed her eyes. She channeled through Taer Koorla, who could tap into more of the Dark than the elven child ever could hope to pull by herself. Its oily coldness surged through her heart, and she felt the thrill of power.

  All around Ahmbren were similar towers, with hosts of troglodyte warriors waiting to join the horde, all standing ready by their tower-mothers.

  Naiadne bent the Dark flows in upon themselves and linked pathways to each of the Underworld towers, through hundreds of miles of dark tunnels. When she felt all of them, she gathered darkness through them around the waiting hosts. She then focused on the tower farthest south, less than a hundred miles outside of Artalon. She reached inward and surged, drawing on the Dark through the links provided by all the troglodyte tower-mothers.

  Naiadne shadowjumped the entire army.

  * * *

  Oriand returned to her home in the halls of Aradma’s Legacy, in the levels far above the king’s council chambers in the Alliance’s tower. She stepped onto the lift with Eszhira and was about to pull the lever that would elevate them through the levels when Attaris hurried towards them.

  “Wait!” he said, almost running. “Lass!”

  Oriand waited for him to step onto the lift before she pulled the lever, and they quickly rose through the shaft.

  “Lass,” he said again. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried!”

  The troll smiled fondly. Runewarden or not, she liked him.

  “Don’t you worry!” he told her. “Arda will make it out safely, and she’ll see Anuit comes back too. There isn’t anything they can’t handle.”

  Oriand laughed. After almost two months in the hands of the high elves, she had forgotten what it was like to hope.

  “Oh, Attaris!” she exclaimed and then leaned over to hug the dwarf fiercely. “I’m glad to see you too.”

  “We were all worried,” Eszhira said. “Kristafrost and I came looking, but we couldn’t get deep enough into the inner chambers. The sidhe—”

  “Yes, I know,” Oriand said. “After they found me, they tightened their defenses.” Her lips twisted in a sour smile. “If it weren’t for Tallindra, I wouldn’t have gotten out.” Then she reconsidered. “No. Really, it was Tiberan. He’s been in contact with her somehow. It’s he who warned us the troglodytes are coming.”

  Attaris whistled.

  “What?”

  “It’s best we save our speaking for Aradma’s Legacy.”

  They exited the lift when it reached their level, and soon Oriand walked through the familiar halls of her home again.

  “Give me a moment,” she said. She went to her apartment, closed the door, and then pulled the slave dress off ove
r her head, throwing it to the floor. She stretched her arms, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. She went to her walk-in closet and grabbed a simple brown blouse and loose-fitting black pants. She noticed at the back of the closet stood a tall, wooden wardrobe she hadn’t had before. It was closed with thick iron locks. She wondered what lay hidden inside and made a mental note to ask her friends as soon as they exchanged more important news. She tied a belt around her waist, and the simple act of wearing her own clothes again further confirmed her freedom and helped wash away thoughts of the slave harness’s induced pleasure.

  She rejoined her friends in her private study. Yinkle and Cory Piper sat together on one leather chair. On the far sofa were Suleima and Odoune. The druid leaned forward, elbows on his knees and fingers crossed quietly in front of his chin between his great tusks. Fernwalker leaned against the wall, twirling one of her long green ponytails around her fingers. Eszhira sat cross-legged on the floor.

  Oriand laid her fingers on the back of her wooden chair, lingering for a moment before she pulled it out and sat behind her desk. She rested her elbows on the wood and folded her fingers together.

  “What do you have for me?” she asked.

  Odoune stood. The usually calm troll glanced at Fernwalker for a moment. The younger elf nodded.

  “Aradma’s alive,” Odoune said.

  A surge of hope pumped through Oriand’s heart. She bolted to her feet, knocking her chair back to the floor. “Where is she?” she asked.

  “Athaym still has her,” Fernwalker stated. Her green hair twirled fiercely about her fingertips.

  Oriand froze. “How do you know this?”

  “We saw her,” Odoune stated. He took a long breath.

  “What?” Oriand demanded. “What else?”

  “Arda too,” Fernwalker said. “And Tiberan.”

  Oriand forgot to breathe for several seconds. She slumped forward, leaning on the desk. “The seals,” she muttered. Arda and Aradma. Tiberan too. Valkrage must have passed his seal to him; otherwise, why would Athaym care? Then, louder: “He has the seals! Wait, what about Anuit?”

  Odoune shook his head. “She wasn’t there. We don’t know what happened to her.”

  Nausea throbbed through Oriand’s center. “Oh, sweet Mother,” she whispered, reverting to a saying from her days as the Matriarch.

  “What?” Attaris asked.

  She saw it now. She wasn’t sure, but how could it be anything else? Athaym had collected the four elemental seals in one place and, at the same time, was making his move on Artalon.

  “Don’t you see?!” she exclaimed. “He has the key! He has the key to Artalon! It is the four seals!”

  * * *

  Keira leaned forward as Kreen dove from the clouds towards Castle Windbowl, followed by the rest of the dragonflight. She circled the castle, surveying the movement below. In her wolven form, she could see details on the stone streets that she wouldn’t normally have been able to pick up from this speed or distance.

  What she saw horrified her.

  Revenants, hundreds of them, walked the walls and courtyards of Castle Windbowl. It wasn’t just Seredith anymore. It seemed to be most of the city. She looked again and saw that the revenants had gathered in the castle. Here and there, a few living people moved about the city’s streets outside the castle.

  Half the dragonflight alighted on the castle walls while the rest circled overhead. Keira guided Kreen to descend into the inner courtyard. She remained mounted on his back as she scanned the windows.

  She visually located the north tower. Her tower.

  “Seredith!” Keira growled. “I know you’re there. Come out!”

  She saw a dark silhouette in the window. The sun was bright overhead but seemed to avoid the figure in the room.

  “He is not here,” Seredith said. Her voice boomed from the air around Keira’s ears. She winced but refused to shove her palms over the sides of her lupine head.

  “Where?” Keira shouted.

  “Athaym has taken him,” Seredith responded. “I have sent Odoune and Fernwalker after him, in exchange for peace. Odoune left me here so that he might save your friends. Leave us.”

  The wolven looked around at the revenant guards that gathered around the courtyard’s edge. In other towers, other windows, she saw more shambling dead forms, these with wands at the ready.

  “Send me after him,” Keira demanded. Tiberan was more important than these people. They were lost already.

  “The trail is cold.” Seredith replied in her magically augmented voice. “Go now. We were unprepared for dragons before, but now we are not.”

  Keira took another look at the guards. All of them. Dead, preserved on the edge of rot. Bile rose in Keira’s throat.

  “This is Dark magic,” Kreen growled. “She is Klrain’s creature.”

  Keira turned her gaze back to the shadowy form in the tower. There had to be a way to Tiberan.

  It was Kreen that saved her. Without warning, a solid green line of light shot from Seredith’s window. The dragon threw himself to the side, slamming into the stone wall to avoid it. Keira fell forward against his back, breath knocked from her lungs.

  Kreen launched himself into the sky and caught the wind in his wings. The rest of the dragonflight joined him. The green light struck home to a dragon just below them, and it fell to the ground.

  “Death magic!” Kreen roared. “She has unlocked death magic.”

  Keira caught her breath. “End them,” she commanded. “Cleanse this town.”

  Kreen wheeled around and charged Seredith’s tower. Keira braced herself for the next line of green light.

  Seredith’s wand flashed, and for a moment Keira saw the revenant’s faintly glowing eyes. At the same time, Kreen opened his mouth and streamed dragonfire onto the tower.

  The fire unraveled the magic of her light and washed through the window into the room. Stone melted and dripped like candle wax over the side of the tower.

  Seredith’s apartments were gone.

  The dragonflight circled over Castle Windbowl, raining their fire down upon it, rending magic, stone, and flesh.

  The living in the city fled to the fields. They were overcome with the awesome sight of the dragons’ might, but they turned to watch their city be cleansed of Seredith’s undead.

  When they were done, the tops of Castle Windbowl dripped down the tower sides, and the lower stone walls glowed red with heat.

  Keira had Kreen set down on the northern shore of Crystalmere Lake. She jumped off the dragon and shifted into human form, watching the billowing smoke rise into the clear blue afternoon sky.

  * * *

  They all stared at Oriand. Minutes passed and no one spoke as they let the thought sink in. Oriand’s knees wobbled, weak with the realization that Athaym had everything he needed to bring their world to an end. She pulled the chair up from the floor and then sank into it.

  “Then Athra’s right,” Attaris broke the silence. “This is our last stand. We’re either strong enough to face him together, or we’re not, and it’s all over.” He ran his fingers over his braided mustache and down his beard. “It makes sense why Modhrin wanted us here. Are we enough?”

  “Let’s hope,” Suleima said, “that we haven’t killed too many of each other off to make a stand.”

  Yinkle’s whiskers twitched, and she hopped off the chair from beside Cory Piper. She slowly went to the window overlooking Oriand’s small balcony and looked at the afternoon sky. She sighed.

  “You still need to tell her the rest of it,” Yinkle said.

  “The rest of what?” Oriand asked, turning back to Odoune. Then: “Yes, if you found Aradma, why are you back here?”

  “She sent us away,” Odoune replied.

  “And you listened?” Oriand’s eyes darted to Fernwalker.

  The younger druid shook her head. “No. But she probably saved our lives.”

  “Then how?”

  “Sidhna,” Odoune told her. “The va
mpire queen. She carried us out, and if she hadn’t done so, we’d be dead.”

  “Sidhna!”

  Odoune nodded. “She… Aradma seemed to trust her. She followed Aradma’s instruction and got us out.”

  Oriand’s mind churned. Aradma had a way of turning people to a higher purpose. She brought out the best in them because she expected the best from them and saw the truth of their beings. Oriand supposed it was possible that Graelyn’s original vessel, the intended avatar from over a thousand years ago, could be won over by Aradma.

  “Where is she now?” Oriand asked.

  Yinkle turned away from the window. “It’s daytime,” the ratling said. “She’s… ah, she’s sleeping.”

  “Where?”

  “Ah… in your closet.”

  Oriand stared at the ratling woman. “… my closet?!” The wardrobe in her closet. She laughed. The ridiculousness of the situation, despite the threat, rocked her from her toes to her shoulders. She wiped a tear from her eye, unable to stop laughing. “In my closet!” she breathed between chuckles. “I stood staring at it when I changed.”

  She calmed herself before continuing. “Well, we need to find some way to help them,” she finally said. “Aradma and Arda are our friends…” She realized that Aradma and Tiberan were together again. She wondered how Aradma had reacted when she saw her lover was alive. Focus. “All three of them. We need to—”

  THROOM.

  The tower shook.

  Oriand stumbled at the unexpected movement and then recaptured her balance. “What was that?” she exclaimed.

  The tower shook again. The zorium structure groaned, and she felt the floor sway under her feet.

  “Earthquake?” Attaris exclaimed. “We don’t get earthquakes here!”

  “Look!” Yinkle exclaimed at the window.