Heart of the Dragon (Dragons of the Realms Book 1)

by Kym Dillon

  Daya glanced over her shoulder. He was clutching his chest, recovering. Tendrils of steam wafted from his clothes. An incendiary odor filled the temple. She hated to think what it signified. His skin was a bright pink and glistened with sweat.

  She shook her head in horror when she looked back at the high priestess. What in the world was going on? This was a place where power meant actual power. She felt it crackling in the air around her. Feis weakly slumped against the altar. Whatever foul magic she had used had drained her, but Daya still backed away from her.

  “Be careful,” Neigen panted.

  “Yes, be careful, Oedaya. I give you options, but choose wisely. Behind door number one, you get me the jewel, and I give you what you want. Not just wealth, but unending wealth. I can make your life so much easier,” Feis seductively promised. The words wrapped around Daya enticingly, but she couldn’t get the thought of Neigen’s torture out of her head.

  Feis seemed to realize it. She hardened her voice: “Door number two, you don’t get the jewel, and you die a swift death. What about door number three? You die slow,” she said apathetically.

  “I told you I’d get it for you!”

  “Of course, you have to get past what guards it.”

  “Fantastic.” Given what Daya had seen thus far, she guessed whatever guarded the treasure would likely be better equipped to hurt her than she would ever be to hurt it. But, there was no backing out now. “I need time to devise a plan,” she hedged.

  “I’ll give you one night, and you’ll have the book for reference. Take her to her chamber.”

  “But, that’s not enough time!”

  “She’s being generous,” Neigen advised.

  He staggered from the room of worship with bony fingers clamped around Daya’s elbow. Her heart thundered in her chest as they raced a flight of stairs that wound through the sprawling temple, past dark rooms and quiet rustling. The movie had turned from fantasy to sinister. Only, this wasn’t a movie or a dream.

  “There’s no way I can plan a heist in one night. Is she crazy?”

  “Perhaps you should’ve asked that question before you promised to get her a stone that will give her all-power,” her guide sputtered.

  Daya inhaled sharply and halted in her tracks. “Well, gee, Neigen! You could’ve told me I was signing up to play fetch for a mad sorceress. I would’ve taken my chances surviving Marco’s courtyard,” she snapped.

  He glared at her as he flung open the door to an oversized bedchamber. Her jaw dropped at the sight of a massive bed and deep-basined tub, a warm fire crackling in the hearth, and food on a table. She breathed in the heavenly smell of candied fruit and roasted meat and forgot why they were arguing.

  Daya ran to the cloche-covered dinner tray. “OMG, is this real?” she gushed. Stuffing sugar-glazed pear slices into her mouth with greedy relish, she extended a plate to Neigen, but he shook his head.

  “I was ordered to bring you here, and so I have,” he said stiffly, peering over his shoulder.

  “Fine, then. More for me.”

  He smirked and slipped into the room, shutting the door. “I had to make sure we weren’t followed,” he hissed. “Listen, there were things I didn’t know that I didn’t know, but we haven’t time for regrets. She’s sending you on a suicide mission! I can’t let you go without a fighting chance. After all, you bravely put yourself between me and certain death back there.”

  The pear lodged in her throat uncomfortably. “What’s guarding the diamond, Neigen?”

  “That’s the least of your worries now that you’ve agreed to retrieve it. This world—It will change one, and not always for the best. So, you must stay focused and work swiftly. Bear in mind, for every day you’re here, months are passing in your time. The realms aren’t entirely in sync.”

  “Wait, what?!”

  “Yes, and knowing Feis, you’re not the only one. You’re racing not only against the clock but against whoever else she sends as a backup plan. I’m sure you realize there’s no second place in this game.” He backed toward the door. “I will try to lend assistance however I can. But, once you get to the keep, you’re on your own. You should look out for anyone who seems out of the norm.”

  “For me, that’s everyone here!” she wailed, pacing away. “Do you know when she’s sending in the competition? Where the diamond might be? I mean, a ‘keep’ is a very nonspecific noun. And, what’s guarding the thing?” Daya turned to an empty room.

  The tall double doors whispered shut, and she groaned helplessly. Then, the floating book from the temple materialized. With a surprised yelp, Daya rushed to grab it. She flipped open the cover, and the pages turned on their own. Squiggly runes shifted and changed shape, transforming before her very eyes into an alphabet she understood. She deciphered the first line above the illustration of the red diamond.

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Daya slapped the book shut.

  The first line read, “There be dragons.”

  2

  The dragon slept. Beneath his black scales, a bed of gold shifted to cradle his massive weight. He half-heard the tinkle of doubloons cascading down hills of treasure, but he dreamed of flying, and the phantom wind howled.

  Clouds blanketed him with cool wetness. He flew higher and left the wispy fluffs of white. His wings spanned a staggering width that blotted out the sun. From the tip of his nose to the spiked end of his tail, he was raw power. His thick neck glowed with flames he ached to unleash, but he squelched the impulse. He imagined people gazing up with awestruck respect from far below. He missed that.

  Soon, he told himself. The line of Imyr would rule the skies again, and the Fire Realm would return to its former glory, as things had been when hundreds of dragons had coexisted with their mortal counterparts in peace.

  His hulking shadow swept the lush green landscape of King’s Isle. Rolling hills spread out from the craggy mountain ridge that crowned the volcanic island. It was in these mountains his keep was carved into impervious stone, hidden from the curious traveler on the ground. An architectural masterpiece, but his own private hell.

  In the dream realm, Arken Imyr could fly away from its many-splendored chambers and explore the world.

  In reality, however, he hibernated in a twilight sleep somewhere deep within his fortress. He could never leave. His sleeping form lifted its tail and lazily swished it before tucking it closer to his legs. A jewel-encrusted goblet clanked to the loot-strewn floor with a thump. He snorted. A rivulet of smoke floated out the crater overhead.

  He vaguely realized the heaviness of his limbs (in dream flight) was evidence he had been grounded too long. Centuries. But, the exact duration of enslavement required harder math than he wanted to attempt.

  He wanted to dream of life as it had been before he became the last dragon king. Eons ago, he hadn’t even been in the running for the throne. With three elder brothers, Arken had roamed free, traveling the many islands of the Fire Realm, amassing treasure and bedding lusty wenches—dragon and mortal alike. The allure of bounty had always been a heady drug, but—damn it all—he missed the sensual feel of a woman’s touch. That, too, would have to wait.

  For now, he had one duty: Keeping the Heart of the Dragon safe. His obsidian talons clutched the scarlet diamond to his chest even in sleep. The cold, hard feel of it reminded him he hadn’t visited the Realm of Dreams for a joy-fly. He was there to meet someone.

  Arken flexed his shoulders, and perfectly engineered wings created an updraft that took him higher and faster. Off to the northeast, the glistening blue ocean rippled like a sheet of glass. Beyond that was the Isle of Warriors. The Fire Realm was, in fact, mostly oceans, but where the lush green landmasses rose from the waves, it was paradise.

  He coasted closer to his own shores, wondering how things had changed since he had done this in real life. He knew the number of dragons worldwide had dwindled. News still reached him, albeit seldom and often inaccurate. It was no longer safe for his kind to travel. Matin
g was nearly obsolete. If the occupation by the dragon eaters didn’t end soon, his race would go extinct, and he didn’t know how to save them.

  Arken wished he could peel away the lost centuries and turn back time. He was old enough to vaguely remember when the high priestesses had worshipped the dragon lords. Leveraging their powers for good, the Daughters of Men had kept the halls of treasure overflowing, and, in exchange, the dragons had given them the secrets to living fire.

  But, gradually, religion had slipped from favor, as all ideas do. The temples were shuttered. The riches and offerings dried to dust. And, the priestesses lost their power. They became greedy for something more than legends. They wanted immortality.

  Their ships came in the night. The dragons fought, but lost the upper-hand to ensorcelled weapons. The high priestesses took them down one by one. In the end, it was retreat, hide or die. Exiled from their own lands, they watched the dragon eaters build new temples and promise new blessings, this time to gods created in man’s image.

  Sighing with regret, Arken landed on a green ledge overlooking the island that had once been his family’s. The crowded metropolis of Feis of the Fire was invisible in this realm, but he could feel it. He felt something else, too. A growing threat that stirred like a sickness in his gut. She was getting stronger.

  She sought the Heart that could rule them all, but his prize possession was out of her reach. The treaty that allowed the dragon king and dragon eater to share the island was binding, no matter how much he hated it. He could never fly beyond the keep, and she could never enter, nor any mortal from the realm.

  Feis had signed the deal before discovering Arken had the one thing she needed most. Now, that she knew, she would stop at nothing to get it. He was in the Realm of Dreams to find out if the time had come for an end to diplomacy. His warriors begged for war.

  “Where are you, old woman?” Arken called out. His oversized body stretched in a field of fragrant grasses that covered the mountainside. He scanned the dreamscape in search of the oracle. “Sylph!” he shouted.

  “I’m elemental, not deaf.”

  A wisp of fog tore from the clouds in the sky. Arken chuckled. At first, it was merely the idea of a woman. Then, she took shape. A squat, round thing with mussy silver hair and a lined face. She was ancient, but her eyes danced like a child’s. Ainley settled on his shoulder with the same cool wetness of precipitation. It felt good to see her. Hell, it was good to see anyone.

  “Can you feel what’s coming?” she breathed.

  He nodded. “Something’s on the wind. Feis is after the Heart, and my soldiers are ready for battle. There are so few of us. I hesitate to risk a single dragon. The keep is impenetrable and the Isle of Warriors remains lost to the ships of the dragon eaters because of your treaty. We are safe. I owe you my life.”

  “A rare moment of sentimentality from a reformed charmer? Or, are you flirting with me, young rascal?” She chuckled and patted his scales. Arken snorted. “Yes, the spell is strong, indeed…But I never said impenetrable…I’m afraid someone has found a way in.”

  He scoffed. “Impossible. Many have tried. None but dragons can enter. I wouldn’t be bound to that infernal keep, if that weren’t the case. I haven’t had a good flight in eons, and—” He smirked at her knowing look. “Suffice it to say, I’m missing out.”

  The elder’s smile broadened. “I’m sorry you’re missing out on your flights. Be that as it may, the treaty says none from your realm can enter. Here you are, in my world. So, you must know there are other realms and ways of travel that bend the rules.”

  Arken stared in disbelief. He threw back his head and roared, “You said it would protect the Heart of the Dragon!” Explosive plumes of fire and smoke forcefully backed his outburst.

  Ainley suddenly became condensation that dispersed and coalesced into woman-shape again to re-settle on his meaty shoulder. She clicked her tongue in disapproval, but she was none the worse for his tantrum. She nonchalantly tamed wavy hair as Arken collected himself.

  “It’s the isolation,” he grumbled.

  “I know. It gets to you. No creature is meant to be alone for so long. It’s not the stone I’m worried about. It’s you.”

  “Never mind me. Either Feis can get to the Heart of the Dragon, or she can’t. Tell me plainly You speak in riddles.” Another stream of smoke was expelled from his nostrils.

  Ainley’s raspy laughter sounded like wind chimes. She widened her eyes, and her lips curled in playful reproach. “You are thick,” she plucked his nose, “and slow in your dragon-shape.”

  He rolled an eye toward her. “You insult me?”

  “I advise you. Take another form. It’s past time.”

  “Time for what, Ainley? I begin to wonder if I should trust your rambling.”

  “You trust me. Because you know that when the earth eats the fire, all things feel the dying of the light. Your world is out of balance, Arken, Son of Imyr. We must keep it from slipping off the scales. There are others at stake. Now. The clouds gather to meet the lightning. Get up. She comes.”

  “Who comes?” he asked, perplexed.

  Ainley held up her palm and gently blew the first dew of springtime into his blinking eyes. “It’s an imprecise science,” she whispered. “But, I think she might be your destiny.” He heard gold coins tinkling like rain.

  His eyes snapped open. It wasn’t the tinkle of coins, but the distant shriek of a female dragon. Why was she so close to King’s Isle? The females on the Isle of Warriors no longer traveled great distances, for fear of dragon eater huntsmen. This one sounded like she had run into trouble.

  Arken shook the weight of sleep from his limbs. His bones creaked, but his muscles bunched with anticipation. He nimbly raced the length of the chamber, rising with a gusty sweep of his wings, and taking off through the open crater. His rusty flight path bumped and dislodged huge chunks of rocks that hit the floor. Grounded too long, he thought ruefully. He would tend to that later.

  Another frail scream rent the night. As upper atmosphere winds helped him gain elevation, Arken flew through zigzags of lightning that lit up roiling clouds. He concentrated on finding her, but, in the back of his mind, he worried he wouldn’t. He could only fly so far. The hidden keep would never let him go.

  Suddenly, he saw a dark, featureless shadow in the storm. Another flash of lightning illuminated her—red-scaled and impressive in size. Her aquiline face tapered to curving purple horns, and her wings were threaded with blue. She was fighting desperately to recover from a free-fall.

  She’s a warrior, Arken realized. He let out a throaty bellow, and she answered with a short squawk, twisting her slender neck in his direction. Relief at having an ally made her struggle harder. He changed course and repositioned to catch her. His wings beat the air, keeping him aloft, as she tried to reach him.

  A part of Arken was detached from the danger and reveling in the storm. Stinging rain lashed his scales. His glossy black hue reflected the lightning that danced around them. Yet, over the roar of nature, he heard pounding hooves, and a frisson of dread went through him when he spotted the huntsmen racing at breakneck speed to reach them. There were five or six highly skilled men in the colors of the Temple of Fire. He knew they were excellent at hitting their targets.

  Arken tore his gaze from the longbows tainted by Feis’ magic. Even fired from miles below, the deadly arrows would reach. He strained to fly higher. “Can you steer toward me?” he called to the female.

  She shook her head, but laboriously flapped her wings. Her body rose on one side in a visible limp. He wished she could hurry. The huntsmen had a better shot of hitting them, the longer he hovered. Arken lunged to close the distance between the red dragon and himself. The moment she was within reach, a wicked looking arrow flew past.

  He rolled away, quickly locking talons with her and dragging her out of range. But, the awkward collision made them spiral in rapid revolutions to the ground. Down, down, down to the cheering huntsmen. If they
touched earth, they’d be eaten before sunrise.

  Arken burned with rage at the very idea. He gritted his teeth and regained altitude, summoning a belch of fire. White heat raced toward the huntsmen, and they scattered. Not for good, but long enough for Arken to give another powerful kick and redirect his trajectory toward the keep. On horseback, the huntsmen could go no farther than the foot of the mountain.

  With a sigh of relief, he checked the rescued dragon and saw her injury. A colorful expletive leapt to mind. It was bad. A thick arrow protruded from her ribcage. The huntsmen had found her weakest spot. He seethed. There were already too few dragons left.

  “I’m dying,” she whimpered.

  “No, you’re not. That’s a direct order from the king. How could you let this happen to you?”

  “They were in the forest. I didn’t see them until it was too late. They chased me.”

  “They’re with the dragon eater. I broadcast the danger!”

  Arken landed with a heavy thud within the glittering hall of riches. He stumbled forward, releasing the female dragon, and she collapsed in a heap. Her ridged spine rose and fell with labored breathing. Losing some of his ire, he nudged her to her side and yanked out the arrow. At her outcry, he flinched.

  “I’m sorry,” he sighed.

  “You have to go. They’ll find you here.”

  “No, you’re safe here. Let’s get that wound taken care of and figure out what to do with you.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not worthy of it, Your Majesty. I only came to deliver a message from General Lios. The last egg was stillborn.”

  Arken sank to his haunches as a wave of despair washed over him. The last egg. His sister’s child. The last of his line. Dead. “What happened?” he whispered in shock.

  “We don’t know, Sire. The egg nested well, but when it was time to hatch…it didn’t. We theorize the dragon eaters’ magic is straining our reproductive health.” She winced as she resettled.

  Arken swallowed his grief. He would mourn the loss of the child another time. He was king and his sister, a general over his army. They were both duty-bound to be strong for the dragons. But, if another egg didn’t hatch soon, the entire race was finished. “Then, your arrival seems fate,” he said gruffly. “What is your name, warrior?”