Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
End notes
Dragon Slayer Book 2
Michael-Scott Earle
Chapter One
Two dragons were coming to kill us. Or at least that was what the king’s letter from his scouts reported.
“You’re sure?” Arieste asked. “You’re sure both dragons are going to attack?” I had just woken up the woman who had once been a white dragon, explained the situation to her and the other woman who had once been a red dragon, Irenya, and then taken them both to the meeting room so that we could all plan our next moves.
“My scouts’ reports speak plainly,” the king of Whitespire replied with a sigh. He was a tall man with narrow shoulders, a slim frame, blonde beard with hints of grey, and worry that shone in his blue eyes. “Curym Waterblade and Zaddrith the Caustic are bringing their minions here to attack, and we have no army to fight with.”
“No army yet, my king,” Sir Galfred rumbled from his seat on the opposite side of the table and folded his thick arms over his barrel chest. The knight of Iriador was a strong, broad-shouldered man with a stubborn expression that matched his body. “I and the Grey Hunters will begin raising one at once.”
“How long will that take?” I asked him.
“Weeks,” he said, and his expression grew grim as he frowned down at the map spread across his table in the middle of the king’s private study. “Months, if we want a fighting force that will serve as more than fodder for the dragons’ minions.”
“How much time do we have, Your Majesty?” I asked the king.
“Far less than that.” King Obragar’s eyebrows drew inward as he frowned. “My scouts’ reports are already days old.”
“Then we’ve got to move fast,” I told them. “But you’ll have to handle it without me.”
“What?” King Obragar’s eyes flew wide. “You would abandon us now, in our hour of need?”
“No.” I tapped the spot on the king’s map that marked the borders of Kingshome, the only other human kingdom in the island continent of Iriador. “Your message from King Astralon said Emroth the Dusky was going to lay waste to the capital city of Windwall. So that’s where I’m headed. We can’t let them be destroyed.”
“Sir Ethan, while I admire your desire to help, surely you can see the need is greater here.” The king pressed his thin lips into a line. “If you leave, how will we defend ourselves from Curym and Zaddrith? With no standing army and only the White Guard to man Whitespire’s defenses, we will be unable to stand before the combined might of the dragons.”
“But what if we could get reinforcements from Windwall?” I asked.
Both the king and Sir Galfred seemed surprised by this question.
“Look, you said that they had an army.”
“An army that was defeated by Emroth the Dusky,” King Obragar clarified.
“But do you think the entire army was killed?” I’d played enough strategy-based video games back on Earth to know a good commander never committed their entire force to an attack. Someone always had to stay back and guard the base. “Didn’t King Astralon say there were men manning the defenses of Windwall?”
“An interesting thought.” Sir Galfred’s bushy eyebrows drew together in concentration. “When I visited Windwall more than a decade ago, nearly six thousand served in the Blackguard. King Astralon would never have stripped the Windwall of its defenders for the sake of an attack on Emroth. The Windwall is the only thing holding the black dragon at bay.”
King Obragar seemed to be considering the thought seriously.
“How many men do you think they have?” I asked.
“The defenses of Windwall require no fewer than two thousand men,” Sir Galfred said. “Add to that the patrols of the city itself, peacekeeping forces, and reinforcements for the Blackguards, and there could be more than three thousand fighting men in Windwall.”
“Three thousand,” I repeated. It had been a bit of a gamble, but I’d gotten lucky. “If we could deal with their dragon problem, that would be three thousand fighting men who could come help us out here. That has to be worth us leaving for a few days.”
Sir Galfred and King Obragar exchanged hesitant, questioning glances.
“Listen, the truth is that both Curym and Zaddrith are not an immediate threat,” I told the king in a confident voice. “They’re still gathering their armies, which means they’re not ready to attack yet. But here, in Windwall,” I tapped the spot on the map indicating the human city, “they’re going to be seriously fucked without an army to protect them from Emroth. This has to be our priority.”
“I must agree with Ethan, Your Majesty,” rumbled Sir Galfred. “While the green and blue dragons present the more serious threat, Emroth is the more dire. If Windwall fell, we would be the only human kingdom remaining on Iriador. We could not face the combined might of the other three alone, even with our own help.” The knight shot a glance at the dragon women.
Arieste’s icy blue eyes gave away no hint of her true feelings. It seemed hard to believe she had once been Frosdar. There was nothing draconic about her supermodel body, lean limbs, toned shoulders, and long legs. No one looking at her pale cheeks, full red lips, and platinum blonde hair would imagine she had once been the white ice dragon.
Yet everyone in the room knew the truth. I had stolen her magical power from the altar in her lair, and in doing so turned her into this beautiful human form. I’d inherited not only the ice powers she once wielded, but also the power to turn her back into a dragon. That power earned me a knighthood and the title of Dragonrider, but no one quite trusted Arieste yet.
Or Irenya, the red-haired, tanned, tantalizingly curvaceous woman who sat perched in the plush armchair in the king’s reading nook. She had once been Riamod, the fire dragon who terrorized Whitespire and nearly burned down the king’s palace in her fury. She, too, had lost her power when I absorbed it.
“So, it’s settled,” I told the king as I folded my arms. “I’m going to fly to Windwall and deal with Emroth, then bring back help to deal with Curym and Zaddrith.” I turned to Sir Galfred. “While I’m gone, you’ll need to prepare Whitespire for attack.”
“Indeed,” said the knight with a nod. “We will call the levies and raise a mighty army, such as Whitespire has not seen in hundreds of years.”
I noticed a subtle stiffening of Irenya’s posture. She still had all of Riamod’s memories, and no doubt she still had many of the dragon’s emotions as well. Whitespire had not raised an army for fear Riamod would perceive it as a threat, and she’d felt that instinctive fear at the mention of the army. It would take her more than a few days for it to sink in that she wasn’t the red dragon anymore.
“You’ll just need to use a firm hand with her,” purred Nyvea’s voice in my mind. “But, if she’s anything like me, she’ll enjoy that quite a lot. What woman doesn’t love a good spanking? Especially from such a hunk of a man like you, Ethan.”
I ignored Nyvea so I could focus on the conversation. She was the voice from the amulet given
to me by Barodan, the Silent Guardian, the being that had pulled me from Earth to this world of Agreon. He’d meant her to be my guide, to teach me the ways of magic so I could fulfill his quest of defeating the dragons. Over time, I’d come to learn that Nyvea had certain desires and no shame about telling me about them. She could prove quite distracting with her sultry tone and overt innuendoes. Thankfully, she was a useful source of information on life on Agreon, the magic that I was collecting, and more.
“Then it’s settled,” I said with a nod. “I will go to Windwall, and you will do everything you can to get Whitespire ready for war.”
“May the Three Goddesses have mercy on us,” the king muttered as his face went ashen.
When I’d first met him weeks earlier, he had been almost a shadow of a man, burdened by the troubles of a kingdom facing the threat of dragons and the possibility of having to sacrifice his daughter. The defeat of Riamod and Frosdar had revitalized him. He’d come alive with excitement and renewed hope at the feast to celebrate my knighthood and triumph over the dragons, and he’d seemed a much stronger, more capable man, with the confidence I’d expected from a monarch. But now he seemed to have reverted to the stressed, tired state he’d been in before. It was more than just the fact that he hadn’t slept. The burden of ruling Whitespire had to be getting to him, even more so now that he had to deal with invading dragons.
“Don’t worry, Your Majesty.” I gave him my best DePaolo grin, the one that had gotten me into a lot of trouble with the girls in my high school. “I’ll kick these dragons’ asses and save your kingdom. Again.”
Sir Galfred chuckled and shook his head. “Ah, the confidence of youth.”
“Feeling your age, are you?” I asked with a grin.
The knight shrugged and cast a glance down at his side, and I guessed that the wound he’d sustained in the battle with Frosdar’s minions was healing slower than he’d like. “They say age brings wisdom, but I’d give all the wisdom in the world to be rid of these bandages.”
I laughed and clapped the knight on the shoulder. “Trust me, you’ll be good as new in no time. I’m the one who bandaged your wound, remember?”
“Of course.” The knight’s eyes met mine, and I saw gratitude shining there. “One day, you’ll have to tell me how you came by such marvelous skill at healing.”
“One day,” I said with a nod. I hadn’t yet told anyone where I was really from. None of them would understand how I’d been brought from Earth to this world called Agreon. They’d never be able to wrap their heads around things like the massive city of Chicago or what it meant to be an EMT. I’d have to keep editing the story to make it easy for them to comprehend.
“Sir Ethan, if you will give me an hour, I will draft a letter to Windwall’s King and Council of Four,” the king told me. “It will explain everything they need to know and ensure that you receive a less hostile reception than you received upon arrival in our fair city.”
“Thanks, Your Majesty,” I said with a smile. “That’ll come in handy.”
Within half an hour of arriving in Whitespire, I’d been assaulted by muggers, then thrown into prison when I killed one of the men in self-defense. After that, three of my fellow cellmates had assaulted me again. I just had to hope it would be a bit easier to do what I needed to do in Windwall.
“Let’s go,” I said as I turned to Arieste and Irenya. “We’ve got a dragon to deal with.”
Arieste nodded and fell into step beside me. What had started out as her indentured servitude to me, the price for me to spare her life had changed into something more than friendship. Once, I had suspected that Arieste only stayed near me because she wanted access to the magic I had taken from her. But since we’d slept together on her first night in Whitespire, something had grown between us.
It was unspoken, but I could sense it in the way we both seemed to feel relaxed around each other. Our sex was mind-blowing, and I found we both laughed easily at the other’s jokes. I had made the decision to trust her enough to give her back Frosdar’s power, and she’d proven my trust justified when she gave up that power to return to her human form. Though I’d only known her for a few weeks, it felt like we were old friends.
Irenya trailed a step behind. The red-haired woman accepted my offer to serve me in exchange for leaving her alive and giving her access to her power. In the twenty or so hours since swearing the oath, she hadn’t done anything to make me doubt her, but I was a long way from trusting her. She had the same sultry, seductive demeanor as Nyvea. I knew there was an ulterior motive hiding beneath, so I’d have to spend more time with her to see if I really could trust her.
That meant Arieste would be our means of transport to Windwall. I’d considered leaving Irenya behind, but I wanted her somewhere I could keep an eye on her. Not just because I didn’t fully trust the woman who had once been a red dragon, but her long, fluttering eyelashes, amber-colored eyes, sultry smile, and full figure meant that Irenya could get into all sorts of trouble if I didn’t keep a close eye on her.
I strode through the palace halls and tried to ignore the eyes of the servants and White Guards following me. Well, probably more like following the two women that served me. Everyone had seen Arieste land in the courtyard in her dragon form, and gossip spread through the palace and probably even through the city. Everyone in Whitespire had to know the truth of who these women were.
And they all knew that the two dragon-women now served me.
The smaller halls near the king’s private study had escaped much of the fire damage, but the smell of smoke still lingered in the main ballroom of the palace. Charred roof beams littered the floor and only blackened flutters of cloth remained of the once-fine tapestries. Servants bustled through the palace in an attempt to restore order and some semblance of dignity after Riamod’s attack.
I led the women through the halls to the palace’s guest wing, where I had a suite of rooms. The rooms had been a gift from the king to accompany my knighthood. There were three bedrooms, a sitting room with an ornate fireplace, and even a bathing chamber with two copper tubs. Unfortunately, we wouldn’t have a chance to use any of those.
“Pack a bag,” I told the two women. “Hopefully it’ll only take a couple of days to deal with Emroth, but be prepared just in case we have to be there longer.”
Arieste nodded and turned toward the room she shared with Irenya. The red-haired woman hesitated, but after a moment she relented and went to pack.
“She gives you any trouble, just lay her over your lap,” Nyvea purred. “I’d like to see that.” She filled my mind with an image that involved very little clothing and a whole lot of heavy sweating and panting.
“Stop that,” I chuckled as I pushed the image away, but not before dwelling on it for a moment. I couldn’t deny that Irenya was absolutely stunning. Though a full foot shorter than Arieste, she had fuller hips and perfectly round breasts that a man could get lost in forever. “I’ve got enough to think about without you filling my head with distractions.”
I set about stuffing my few belongings into the pack I’d taken on my trip to Frosdar’s land. The clothes had all been a gift from King Obragar. The cargo pants, T-shirt, and tank top I’d been wearing when I came to Agreon would stand out too much. I definitely couldn’t take my turnout gear with me. I would already be the center of attention, given that I’d be riding on the back of a frost dragon. Add to that strange clothes from another planet and a full fireman’s suit, and people would look at me like I was a total alien. Which I technically was, but the fine folks of Windwall didn’t need to know that.
“Speaking of Windwall, what’s the climate like?” I asked Nyvea.
“Much like you explained your Windy City to me,” she replied. “It’s built high into the mountains, so you can expect a lot of cold and wind. Not much chance I’ll get to see that sexy body of yours, since you’ll need to be bundled up.”
I grinned at the disappointment in her voice. “You really do know how to make
a guy feel good about himself, Nyvea.”
“Only for a big, strong hero like you, Ethan.”
The door opened behind me and Arieste emerged with a pack slung over her shoulder. She wore a cotton dress that did little to hide the alabaster skin of her shoulders and legs. She seemed so elegant, even in such simple clothing. The way she carried herself, the intelligence in her icy blue eyes, and the confidence in her smile did more than a fancy ball gown ever could.
Irenya appeared a moment later. She wore a much brighter, bolder dress of emerald green that was pulled tight at the waist to accentuate her hourglass figure and with a dangerously plunging neckline.
“Careful, handsome,” Nyvea whispered. “The way you’re drooling’s enough to make even me jealous.”
“Can you blame me?” I asked in my mind. “Just look at the two of them.”
“You’re not wrong there,” she replied. “You must have done something really right to end up with such gorgeous women on your arm. Oh, I know, you defeated two dragons in combat. So there, you are a hero, handsome, and heroes always get the beautiful women.”
I swallowed and shouldered my pack, then reached for the fireman’s axe leaning against the wall beside the fireplace. My turnout gear was stowed in the trunk at the foot of my bed, but I wouldn’t go anywhere without this axe. After all the hours I’d spent training with it, it felt right in my hand.
I swung the axe up onto my shoulder and nodded to the women. “Let’s do this.”
The first light of dawn shone through the picture windows above the grand staircase as we descended, and it was still a bit dark outside as we exited the palace into the courtyard. King Obragar’s personal messenger, a short, mouse-faced man, met me outside the front door and held out a rolled up scroll.
“The letter from King Obragar to the Council of Four, Sir Dragonrider,” the man said in a surprisingly nasal voice.
“Thank you.” I took the scroll from him and tucked it into the pack. Then the man gave me a stiff bow and retreated into the palace.
I smiled as I saw a familiar figure waiting for me at the bottom of the steps. Adath was a fighter from the Grey Hunter’s Guild, with the thick nose and beefy hands to match. His head was bald and waxed to a shine, but his beard hung in two thick braids down to his waist.
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