Age of Gold Book One to Three: To Claim a King, To Catch a Prince, To Tame a Rogue (Tales of Midgard 1)

by May Sage

  Hopefully.

  He stopped in Vern, the small town where he’d seen Talia in his weird vision.

  “My lord!” said a woman outside the lively pub he’d visited once or twice. She inclined her head and pressed her fist to her chest in respect.

  “Greetings. Have you seen a woman pass through on horseback? Dark hair, in a hurry.”

  He didn’t doubt it, but her nod reassured him, nonetheless. “Not even twenty minutes ago. Polite little thing. Wanted to give me money for letting her poor horse take some water,” she shook her head as though it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.

  “She headed west, did she not?”

  “Aye, that she did.”

  “Thank you. I’ll quench my own horse’s thirst, if you don’t mind.”

  “So long as you don’t flash your purse, you’re welcome to.”

  Stopping, even for a minute, was downright painful, but he wasn’t one to exhaust his animal.

  There’s another way, said the voice of the monster, and he ignored him. The dragon didn’t seem surprised. He didn’t push, either.

  Vincent tensed, feeling like the beast knew him a little too well. No argument was going to make him relinquish the rules of their body now and his dragon was aware of that. But the dangerous watchful creature was waiting for an opportunity, that much was clear. When came a time where Vincent might have a doubt, he would use it.

  Not long ago, he would have said that there was no way the dragon would ever win that internal fight. But if they were on a beach today, and a horde of orcs appeared near Talia, just like they had so long ago? If he was too far? There was a chance he might let the monster out.

  He forced himself to recall what had occurred the last time he’d done that. To remember that the monster wasn’t one to protect.

  She was already dead.

  It was the first time that the dragon talked of it. Even back then, when it had just happened, his beast had remained silent, enraged, before simply withdrawing from their conscience.

  Now, three centuries later, the dragon pulled a memory back from their minds. A memory Vincent had either suppressed or failed to notice.

  Clarya on the beach, in her cougar form. She leapt at an orc, and a spear pierced her heart. Even at a distance, the eyes of the dragon caught it all. The dragon’s acute hearing heard every beat of her heart, until there were none.

  Then, he’d beat his wings, flew over the monsters, and killed them all.

  They’d failed the poor innocent girl, but he wouldn’t fail to avenge her.

  Vincent felt sick to his stomach when his vision cleared up, returning him to the present. Not because of what had occurred then; because of what he’d done after. He’d blamed his dragon. Every day, for three hundred years, he’d cursed it, calling him an evil thing, a monster.

  The dragon hadn’t been sealed by the guilt over what he’d done. He’d stayed away from the man who had given up on him, hating himself, and remaining in shadows where he was relentlessly told he belonged.

  His dragon had remained soaked in self-hatred so long it was a miracle there was anything left of him by the time she came.

  She. Their mate. Their treasure. The only person who could heal the beast who’d stopped believing in Vincent.

  Damn, Talia was really everything to him - to them. If anything happened to her…

  “Enough. Let’s fucking fly.”

  The instant he decided to let go, his body started to convulse, burn, and bones cracked. Oh, bloody hell, had it been as painful the last time? Thankfully, it didn’t last long.

  Then, there he was. The thing he’d most dreaded for over three hundred years. The blue-scaled monster, in the streets of a village full of people. Not long ago, Vincent would have believed the dragon would have taken pleasure at seeing them all burn.

  He leaped in the air and thrust with his long wings, heading west.

  Flying was the best thing he’d ever done, except perhaps, dry-humping and kissing Talia. Still, it was up there with that. Speed. Raw power. Vincent’s stomach was dropping, and, at the same time, he almost begged the beast to go faster, loving the ride.

  Closing the distance between Vern and Norda - which would have taken a good hour by horse, took just a few minutes.

  The dragon’s teasing demeanor changed when its keen eyes narrowed in the direction of a black hole, a breach in the transparent golden wall, close to the fortress, but too small to demand attention. The hole was on the left flank of the stone wall nearest his home, and his men hadn’t noticed it yet, focused as they were on the foreign dragon darkening their view.

  Vincent kept on searching, ignoring his men, who’d started to shift, no doubt intending to confront him. Finally, he saw her, coming out of the nearby woods. She’d left her horse somewhere - on foot, she sneaked along the side of the fortress, heading towards the Aether wall.

  His adorable little idiot. What if his men saw fit to attack her?

  Vincent’s beast flew down at high speed, landing in the middle of his keep. Men were shouting around him, lances at the ready, demanding he shift back.

  The dragon didn’t want to, Vincent felt that. But he certainly saw that he would be of little help to Talia in his current form, so, reluctantly, he withdrew back into a corner of Vincent’s mind.

  Silence. Complete, utter silence from his men, then shouts and applause. He had to laugh.

  “Find me some clothes,” said he - someone was already throwing breeches and shirts to him. “Your future mistress is down on the side of the fortress,” he gestured. Someone created a hole in the wall. Ignore it. Stay put and take care of whatever comes out of it once they reach the palace.”

  They weren’t warning their enemies of the fact that they were coming for her.

  The Meeting

  Talia wasn’t startled, or frightened, when a hand closed over her mouth and large, strong arms pulled her against a hard, muscular torso.

  She hadn’t felt or heard Vincent approach, but the moment he touched her, she knew, without any doubt, that it was he. She let him pull her away from view and was rewarded by a hard, harsh, unforgiving kiss that left her boneless, brainless, putty in his arms.

  Then came the lecture. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” he whispered, each word full of anger.

  Ah, she should have seen that coming. Pretty Man didn’t think women ought to be close to danger, no doubt.

  “I felt your Enchantress - you know, the one that I alone have any chance against.”

  She’d never actually fought anyone in her entire life, but her magics were strong - perhaps strong enough to counter whatever sorcery came from their enemy.

  Vincent looked like he wanted to strangle her, yet he forced himself to speak quietly, calmly. “There are orcs; dozens of orcs, passing through a hole in the wall. How do you propose to get to your Enchantress, when they block your way? Ask them nicely to move away?”

  She crossed her arms on her chest. “Actually, I’d planned on freezing them, like I froze you all.”

  “Sound plan. Except, you could miss one. Or, I don’t know, you could lose focus on your spell while battling your own enemy. Talia, you’re not invincible, and there’re people who care about what happens to that pretty neck.” He tried a smile, and caressed her cheek. “Next time, you call me. I don’t question your skills, but we all need someone to watch our back. You’re the magics, I’m the muscles.”

  His gentle tone got through to her. She sighed. “Alright. Good point. Well, muscles, how do you propose we proceed?” It would be silly to let her stubbornness win out when she could use the experience of a man far more versed in the arts of war than she.

  “You had a sound plan,” he shrugged. “I just want to be there to support you if you need me.”

  Alright, she hadn’t expected that at all. The gods had been in a very good mood when they’d created Vincent Vasili.

  “Let’s move out.”

  It wasn’t lon
g before she regretted her decision to let him tag along.

  * * *

  Talia prepared her spell away from the wall, she and her shadow whispering each word, calling to the earth and water in the ground - then she advanced, and cast it with nothing more than a wave. The orcs stopped.

  “You’re quite frightening, witch.”

  She was certain that ‘witch’ was supposed to be an insult, yet Vincent made it sound like the sweetest of endearments.

  “What are we to do with them now? Are you going to slay them all?” Talia asked as they passed their immobile enemies.

  The orcs’ flesh was foul, stinking of rot - their features had very little humanity to them, no expression. Back in the day, they’d been called the undead. From what Talia knew of them, their race had been affected by some sort of terrible weapon right after the Last War, the one that created the world as they knew it now. It was said the orcs were simply tortured souls, longing for their death. She didn’t believe that; they were soldiers with a purpose. Someone was, no doubt, pulling their strings.

  Still, the idea of slaughtering them when they were unable to defend themselves at all turned her stomach; never mind the fact that they’d probably done the exact same thing to women, old men, and children in the villages they’d encountered on their way. She really did expect Vincent to have a stronger heart, and do what was best for the greater good, but he seemed downright insulted at the very thought.

  “Certainly not. If we were at war, and the decision could save thousands, then, perhaps. But there’s less than a hundred of them. Trust me when I say that the guards of Norda will make short work of them - without having to slaughter them like cowards.”

  They were, thankfully, soon far enough away from the horde that she could breathe more easily, although there was a lingering rotten scent in the air still. Soon they reached a wood; an enchanting, and, no doubt, enchanted little forest. They left the foul air as soon as they walked in, as though some sorcery prevented it from polluting a sacred place.

  Talia needn’t use any magics to know they were in the right place, now. These woods should have sheltered all sorts of creatures, yet there was no sound, no bird, no animal - not even any insects living here.

  “We’re getting close,” she whispered.

  Vincent simply inclined his head; he looked quite tense, his eyes narrowed, taking in the smallest movement.

  Talia parted her lips to tell him how glad she was that he’d accompanied her, for no doubt, without him, now, she would have been much more stressed.

  But before any word formed in her throat, Vincent was violently pulled ten feet up in the air, and thrown roughly onto the ground. He lay there, unmoving.

  Fuck.

  Talia moved to rush to his side, but a creature appeared between them. A woman. That term wasn’t quite accurate; it suggested something soft, beautiful, and far less threatening than the thing she now faced.

  No, that wasn’t a woman at all. Golden light emanated from her every pore, making her a beacon in the darkness.

  She smiled cruelly and inclined her head. “You’re smarter than I thought, little hick,” said Trudy. Her Trudy. The friend whose coat she’d worn.

  At the same time, it wasn’t Trudy at all.

  “What are you?”

  She laughed. “Isn’t that just the question? Depends on who you ask, sweetest. I’ll tell you, though. Keep it secret,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I’m everything crossing through your mind.”

  On that note, Trudy lifted her hand, opened her empty palm, and softly blew on it. Golden sparks flew towards Talia before she could even think on how to counter them.

  Within an instant, she was gone, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  She woke up groggy, disorientated, and a little confused for a second. Once her mind cleared up, she tensed, looking around somewhat frantically.

  Vincent was there. Her relief didn’t last long: something was wrong with him. He wasn’t moving and his body was too still to be sleeping. No. Just no. Her foolishness had not cost the life of a prince. She rushed to him, biting her lip.

  A relieved sigh escaped her when she found a pulse; it was weak, but she found it on his neck.

  “Vincent,” she called. The man didn’t so much as twitch.

  “Vincent!” she tried again.

  Nothing.

  “He isn’t going to wake up.”

  Talia froze and turned slowly. She wasn’t sure what alarmed her about that voice; it was beautiful, perhaps too beautiful, in fact. Melodious and suave. The woman it belonged to fit it to a T. Trudy had seemed, if not ugly, just rather plain, when they’d first met, but her features had changed a little now. She seemed taller, and certainly prettier. Her longer ears, and delicate features were elvish, but there was an edge Talia recognized. That woman felt exactly like her shadow. A creature who wasn’t evil, per se - but she could be, if she chose to.

  “You’ve charmed him.”

  The creature was unapologetic.

  “I wanted us girls to have some time to ourselves, first.” She took a step forward, hand extended. “Nimue,” said she. Then, she clarified, “That’s my actual name.”

  “Oh.” The conversation was too civil and banal, making her feel off balance. Because there was no doubt in her mind that she was now facing her. The Enchantress who’d taken the walls of Norda down. “Well, you know I’m called Talia. Natalia.”

  The stranger smiled. “Indeed. You know, I sensed that you had a lot more Old Blood than any of the others back in the Var, but even with the right blood, it’s rare for any of the Descendants to rise. I was very pleased when you became an Enchantress.”

  She made it sound like she’d joined her breakfast club. Desperately attempting to stay focused, Talia asked, “Is Vincent going to be alright?”

  Nimue wasn’t one to reply with a straightforward yes or no. “I haven’t done any permanent damage.”

  She’d certainly heard more reassuring words. Talia had hesitated, but now, the beautiful stranger had landed on her very short list of enemies. “Right. Well, you wanted us to talk. Let’s start with the reason why you’ve attacked Farden.”

  Nimue tilted her head. “Attacked?”

  She said it with a devious smile. “You destroyed their defense.”

  “Yes.” She was admitting to that, at least. “That needed to be done. As for the why, trust me when I say the answer is more than you’ve bargained for. If I was to tell you everything, we’d still be here next winter. Let it just be said that you and I have little choice in the matter. Our roles were written long ago. All we have left is to play the parts.”

  That made absolutely no sense. Talia wondered if the woman had lost her mind, but she didn’t seem confused or fanatical, just sad.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You aren’t supposed to. I’ve let you come here for one reason. I need to issue a warning.”

  “To Farden?”

  Nimue rolled her eyes. “I have little interest in any kingdom of your little land. No, it’s you I’m warning. I played my part, and soon - too soon - the game will end. This world is either going to be blessed by the gods themselves or fall into darkness.”

  Right. Now she sounded pointblank insane.

  “Darkness,” Talia repeated, one eyebrow risen.

  “That’s a nice way of saying that you’re all going to die.”

  Again, the words were insane, yet spoken with confidence and finality.

  “Why?”

  “Because you must.”

  Right. She tried another technique. “Can’t you help? Save us?”

  “That’s what I’m doing,” said Nimue. “When the time comes - and trust me when I tell you, you’ll know when that is - head north. Beyond your little Var, beyond the Highlands - beyond the walls surrounding your world. There’s an island. It’s the only place you’ll be safe.”

  Beyond the walls… The woman was talking of that place again; the one her Tutor had re
ferred to, the one Vincent talked of. “You mean, Avalon.”

  Nimue seemed pleased. “You’re really well schooled.”

  “As though I could convince any dragon to let me ride them.”

  Nimue smiled. “You know, one of the many names they gave our kind, back in the day, was Dragonlords. Trust me. You’ll convince any dragon to do anything you please, when you really want to.”

  She snorted, before adding, “Well, not everyone will happen to have a dragon friend they could possibly hitchhike with.”

  Nimue nodded now.

  “That’s the idea.”

  She didn’t understand what she meant by that. “What idea?”

  “I’ve not brought you here to save the world, little hick. I’ve brought you to save you. You, and your sisters, whatever worthy dragons you can bring in time. If you heed my warning and get ready, you’ll have a chance.”

  Talia was getting a serious headache.

  “I don’t understand. Please,” she begged, “just make me understand.”

  The Story

  Nimue sighed and, for a beat, it really was Trudy there. “A long time ago - thousands of years ago, right after the Last War, way before the Rift, this world changed. Not for the better. The orcs you see on the continent? They’re nothing to what dwelled in the world in those days. And yet, there was a lot more evil brought by man, shifters, and elves. Corruption, cruelty.” The creature closed her eyes. “In those days, we mages - the original kind - not the watered-down version with a drop of our blood, running around and creating healing salves - lived in our world, away from it all. Until came a day when a worthy man rose, and ruled this world.”

  “The Once and Future King.”

  Nimue was impressed again. Having a great memory and a thirst for knowledge helped.

  “The one and only. He brought forth a golden age of prosperity, until, again, darkness prevailed. That time, the cost was too dear. That time, we decided to act.”

  Nimue left it at that for a little too long. “Act?” Talia repeated, an invitation to carry on talking.