by Megg Jensen
The Runes of Destiny
Dragons of the Nether Book Three
Megg Jensen
Contents
Subscribe
Map
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
More About Megg
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2019 by 80 Pages, Inc
Published by 80 Pages, Inc
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used factitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form by or any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.
* * *
1st Edition: April 2019
* * *
Cover art by Michael Gauss
Cover design by Steven Novak Illustration
Created with Vellum
Subscribe
Subscribe now:
* * *
http://smarturl.it/MeggsNewsletter
Map
Chapter 1
Dirt pressed on Tace’s eyelids and collapsed into her nostrils. Instinct urged her to take a deep breath—the will to live told her to hold it. If she inhaled too much dirt, she would die.
Ademar, that idiot, had buried her body, even though her spirit was still alive. She supposed she’d have to forgive him for it—assuming she survived.
Air caressed her fingertips as she tried, very carefully, to move the soil aside with her hand. She was afraid if she pushed too hard, too fast, more dirt would collapse on her face and suffocate her.
Only a moment ago, her soul had been inside a dragon, flying above the ruined city of Agitar, and now she was back in her body. Her very mutilated, very buried, very just-back-from-the-dead body. She remembered very clearly slitting her own throat in an attempt to speak with the gods. It was the very technique she’d used to assassinate so many others.
Before. In the life where she lived in fear of the afterlife.
But now she knew different.
She’d spent her life trying to make up for her father’s mistakes in order to gain an afterlife with her god. But upon her death, she’d found that Drothu wasn’t waiting with open arms for his children. Instead, souls wandered lost and forgotten in the Nether, where a horde of living, breathing dragons were held captive.
Tace shifted slightly as the dirt resettled around her face. There was only a small pocket of air. If she didn’t use it wisely, she would be doomed to reside among those lost souls forever.
She strained to hear, but the soil muffled her ears. Though she knew her fingers had broken through the ground, she had no idea if Ademar or Frensia had seen. For all she knew, they’d left immediately after the dragon stopped at her grave.
Unwilling to wait any longer, Tace clawed desperately at the dirt. The weight of the earth pressed on her, snatching away the very breath she needed to live. It wouldn’t be long now.
The dragon had released her spirit back into her body just in time for her to die again. Tace felt only regret and anger. If a peaceful, honorable death had always been her ultimate goal, she was about to fail miserably.
She thought of her dragon, Raseri. She thought of her mother. She thought of the xarlug she defeated. She thought of Ademar. But her last thought wouldn’t belong to any of those people, those souls. She would reserve her final thought, before dying, for only one thing: revenge on Drothu. If he did exist, god or not, she would find him—and she would make him pay for all things he’d done. Whether in this world or in the afterlife, Tace swore she’d bring him to justice.
She prepared to give in, ready to find Drothu on the other side, when a small feather of air brushed her cheek. Bit by bit, the rest of her face was exposed.
Tace opened her eyes. Dirt streamed in, forcing stinging tears, but a hand gently pushed the dirt away from her eyes, nose, and mouth, exposing her face to the warmth of the setting sun.
“You’re alive. I’m so sorry. I am so, so, so sorry.” Ademar dug around her body, his hands clawing at the dirt.
Tace held back a sarcastic reply. Ademar had no reason to be sorry. If anything, she should be sorry for returning to her body when she had already died. She caused this.
Her lips parted and her tongue darted out, despite the awful taste of dirt. “Shovel,” she managed to croak out, her throat sore and dry.
“Not on your life!” Ademar said. “I might accidentally hurt you.”
Tace wanted to live. And yet, she wasn’t sure how she was breathing or why her lungs felt so clear. When she’d sliced her throat with the daggers, her lungs had filled with bloody bubbles, choking her before she could bleed out. It was the worst pain she’d ever felt, and the most frightening. She’d passed out, unable to experience the moment of death.
And yet here she was, alive.
As soon as one arm was free, she reached gently toward her throat, her fingertips touching the skin that should have been in tatters, sliced from ear to ear. But all she felt were two thin scars.
“My throat,” she said through parched lips.
Ademar stopped digging around her waist and sat near her head. He gazed down at her with those warm eyes, clouded by a weariness she’d never seen in him before. His gaze swept over her throat. “I don’t understand it,” he said, “but… you’re healed. It’s as if… it… never happened.”
Tace closed her eyes, unsure what to say. It was rare she found herself speechless, and it had nothing to do with how much her throat hurt. Many strange things had happened to her since the night she attempted to assassinate the priest, Hugh. But this—returning from the dead with her wounds healed—was incomprehensible.
“Get me out,” she said to Ademar with a weak smile.
Ademar kissed her forehead gently and went back to work, digging with his hands.
A familiar coo rang out, and Raseri appeared beside Tace’s head, snuggling into her cheek. Tace wondered how much the little dragon knew. Raseri had guided Tace—or the dragon whose body Tace had so briefly inhabited—to this grave. To Tace’s grave.
Frensia appeared as well, their figure looming above. “I would help, but umgar have little strength. I would only get in Ademar’s way. This is why I spent my life in the Library of Filamir. Lifting books was difficult enough
, but digging in the dirt? No. I couldn’t do that.” They clutched a book in their hand, probably the same book they’d stolen from the library.
How long ago had that been? If they were already back in Agitar—as it seemed from what Tace could see—then she must have been dead for weeks. She sniffed, surprised her body didn’t reek of decay.
“You know you only died early this morning,” Frensia said.
All too often, Tace felt like the umgar could read her mind, and she didn’t like it.
“It was quite remarkable. The child in the sanctum opened a portal for Ademar and me. Ademar wanted to bring you back to Agitar for burial. He said it was what you’d want.” Frensia spoke as if this were a mere morning report instead of the details of her life after death. “I think he loves you very much.”
Ademar curled a lip and shot Frensia a hard look. “Frensia, that’s enough!”
Frensia waved an arm in the air. “Humans. Orcs. So worried about expressing their feelings.”
“No, I’m worried about getting Tace out of this damn hole I put her in. Had I known…” Ademar’s voice trailed off.
“I, too, thought she was dead. Who could survive a slashed throat? And all the blood loss. No, Tace was most definitely dead.” Frensia flashed one of their fake smiles. “And look at you now!”
Tace rolled her eyes. It hurt to do so, but it was necessary.
Ademar finished removing the dirt covering her and sat, once again, next to her shoulders. “You’re free,” he whispered. “Now let’s get you out.”
Tace struggled to sit up, dirt falling from her clothes, Ademar’s gentle hands supporting her. Her muscles responded, but her movements were slow. And it was a strange feeling, being trapped inside her frail orc body once more. For the first time in her life, she realized how truly powerless the orcs were. They considered themselves to be the hardiest of the races, yet they were nothing compared to the might of a dragon. She longed to be back inside the creature that she’d so briefly shared a life with. The urge was so overwhelming she began to weep. She had to know if she’d reached her goal, too. Had the disease been halted? Had her actions been enough?
“Tace.” Ademar stroked her hair. “You’re okay. It’s all going to be okay. I promise.”
She blinked, looking at him through blurry eyes. “Did I do it? Did I stop the disease?”
Ademar frowned. “I don’t know. As soon as you’re better, we can find out. For now, I’m going to carry you to a bed. Let you get a good night’s sleep.”
“No. I need to know now. I need to find out if everything I did… if it was all worth it.”
“Well, since I know it doesn’t matter what I say, at least let me help you, to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.” Ademar gave her a wry smile as he wrapped an arm around her back. “On three.”
Tace leaned on him as he counted, and both of them heaved as she stood. Her legs were shaky, but she could feel her strength returning.
“Let’s go then,” she said.
Without waiting for Ademar or Frensia, she took a tentative step away from her grave toward the orc encampment on the other side of the city.
Chapter 2
One moment Ademar was burying Tace’s clearly dead and lifeless body, the next she was alive and walking through the ruins of Agitar.
He’d promised to sacrifice everything he had to help her succeed.
But this was beyond anything he’d ever expected.
Her throat had healed. Her heart, which had been silent for hours, was beating again. Her skin glowed with warmth instead of the cold pallor he’d kissed before commending her body to the earth.
She was alive.
And he was sure there was more to her miraculous recovery than she had told him. As usual, she was keeping details to herself. But he would be patient; eventually they would come out. Ademar was here to serve Tace, not to question her. At least, that was what the test at the Fifth Sanctum had made him realize.
He’d been drawn into Tace’s life, not the other way around. He had fallen for her, had vowed to do anything to protect her, but he would never be Tace’s equal partner. He was her right hand, her most trusted companion, and, occasionally, her lover. That was his role, and he would perform it to the best of his ability.
Swallowing his feelings, he jogged to catch up with Tace, leaving Frensia behind. He hoped to get a few words with her alone.
“Hi,” he said, not quite sure how to start off the conversation.
Her eyes focused on the path ahead, Tace said, “What do you want to know?” She was as blunt as ever.
“Anything you’re willing to tell me.” In truth, Ademar also wanted the things she would inevitably leave out, but he knew better than to push.
“I died to help save my fellow orcs from the disease that had taken hold of the encampment.” Tace slowed her pace. “I thought by my dying, they would somehow be saved. It was the only thought I had at that moment. So, I did it. I died.” She stopped, put a hand on Ademar’s arm, and looked directly into his eyes. “I didn’t want to leave. You must understand that. I thought it was the only way.”
A lump bobbed in Ademar’s throat. It had all happened so fast, he’d barely had time to process it. All he’d been able to think about was getting her body back to Agitar for burial. While digging the grave, his mind had wandered to what could have been if she hadn’t done it. He’d thought of Hugh, the priest who had been his mentor for many years, and how Ademar had felt at the moment of Hugh’s suicide.
First Hugh. Then Tace.
Except Tace had come back to him. Hugh was gone forever.
There were a lot of emotions for him to sort through.
Should he say he was hurt by her decision? That he took her choice personally? No. As the test had shown him, he had to support her despite the choices she made.
Tace’s eyes searched his face as he stared at her, unsure what to say in return. She bit her lower lip, and her tusks pushed on the skin above her lip. Ademar remembered a time not long ago, when he would reach out, caress those cheeks, his thumb brushing over her tusks. It had often led to them kissing, but… she had just returned from the dead. It seemed… wrong.
“Things happened,” Tace said. She squared her shoulders, clearly all too aware an awkward moment had just transpired. “Now I’m back. And I need to find out if my actions helped with the infection. Are you coming?”
Ademar felt ashamed. He should have taken her in his arms and showed her exactly how he felt. Tace was too stoic to ever pull him into an embrace. He was typically the one who initiated things. Now he’d missed his chance.
Unable to face her a moment more, he turned around. “Frensia?”
“Nearly caught up. Keep going.”
Frensia’s words did little to reassure Ademar. The umgar was so fascinated by the ruins of Agitar, they barely even glanced in Ademar’s direction.
He turned back to Tace—and wasn’t surprised to see she’d already left without him. Well, it was probably best he stay with Frensia anyway. Tace was always fine without him, whereas the umgar could get hurt or lost. He fell back, matching strides with Frensia.
“May I ask what that is?” Frensia pointed to one of the toppled spires that used to touch the clouds from atop the king’s castle.
To keep his mind occupied, Ademar provided Frensia with a running commentary on the ruins as they made their way out of the city. He tried his best to reconstruct the city for them, giving the umgar some insight into the former glory of the capital city of the orcs—helping them to see the place the way he saw it. He had lived there long enough to have every detail of the city indelibly etched in his memory. He could recall these winding streets better than he could those of his homeland of Soleth. He may have been born a human, but he was an orc at heart, and he came to appreciate that more with each passing day.
Up ahead, Tace was climbing over a crumbled column near the city’s entrance. Soon they would be upon the orc encampment. In Ademar’s haste to b
ury Tace, he had given little thought to the other orcs and the infection they were fighting. If Tace hadn’t managed to stop the sickness, he, Tace, and Frensia were all about to be exposed.
“Frensia, I think you should know more about what might wait for us ahead.” Ademar touched their arm, surprised at how cold their skin was.
“I know of the infection. I am aware it is quite virulent. I also have great confidence in Tace. Don’t you? I’m sure that with whatever she learned at the Fifth Sanctum, she was able to stop it.” Frensia waved the book they carried at Ademar. “As soon as we confirm everyone is well, we must get back to the book. It will tell us more about the next symbol. It will help guide Tace on her search to uncover the mysterious tattoos appearing on her arm.”
Tace stopped ahead of them and turned around. “Not one word about that to anyone else, Frensia. Do you understand? No one.”
“Oh yes, of course.”
If Ademar hadn’t known better, he would have sworn Frensia was disappointed. But umgar didn’t experience feelings in the same manner as humans and orcs.
“Look,” Tace said, pointing over the rise, out to the prairie. Bodies littered the ground. “Did I help, or did I kill everyone?”