by Sarah Hawke
The Dragon Bride
Book One of the Dragon Bride Chronicles
Published by Jade Fantasy
Copyright © 2017 Sarah Hawke
Cover Art by Reinbach
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or used fictitiously.
All rights reserved.
DEDICATION
I want to offer a special thanks to all my wonderful supporters on Patreon, especially Jason, Justin, and Lapis. Without your help, this project may never have seen the light of day—and it certainly wouldn’t have had such an awesome cover!
CONTENT WARNING
This erotic novella contains explicit sexual content. If you are offended by adult language, mild bondage, and/or lesbian sex, you probably shouldn’t be reading this. Consider yourself warned!
Chapter One
“Twenty bits and I open this door for you gentlemen. Thirty and I tell one of our fine wenches to fetch you a hot meal and a cold drink.” The tall, muscle-bound Kolathi guard smiled and opened his palms. “A hundred and that same wench will crawl under the table and suck your cock while you eat. What do you say?”
The group of sailors chortled as they rifled through their coin purses. They were a pathetic and loathsome lot, but that hardly made them unique in a border city like Last Hope. The streets were filled with mercenaries and sailors who had nothing better to do with their leisure time than drink the best swill they could find and fuck the cheapest whores they could afford.
I desperately wanted to hate them, but as First Wife Lysandre so often reminded me, these people were beneath our contempt. Even during peacetime, the Dragon Brides had more important things to do than harass drunks or lechers. And this day was anything but peaceful.
Once the sailors finally paid their dues and stumbled inside, I stepped out of the alleyway and approached the brothel entrance. The Kolathi glanced up at me, his eyebrows arching in confusion at the sight of my heavy cloak and deep hood.
“It’s been a long time since one of the Grayhand Monks made his way to our illustrious establishment,” the man snickered. “Getting bored of sitting in empty caves and staring up at the sky? Don’t worry, friend—one of my girls will have your pecker up and about in—”
His voice died in a horrified gasp when I abruptly pulled back my hood and revealed the opaque porcelain mask covering my face. For a moment, I wondered if he might actually piss his trousers right then and there.
“Ja kozel!” he blurted out in his native tongue. “You are not welcome here!”
“I am Asha Kadan, Dragon Bride of Narthil and loyal servant of the Onyx Throne,” I told him. “I am welcome everywhere.”
He swallowed heavily, and somehow his pale blue skin became even paler. “Last Hope is a free city. Your master has no authority here.”
“My master is the last true Dragon God and the rightful Emperor of Varellon. His authority is boundless.” I slowly ascended the steps, my turquoise eyes boring into him through the narrow slits of my mask. “I am looking for someone. You are going to help me find him.”
I could feel a ripple of terror spread behind me in the streets. Dragon Brides were a rare sight anywhere in the Reach these days, let alone across the border in the Deadlands. My sister-wives were spread too thin already, and the First Wife believed it was more important for us to ensure the stability of Narthil than to try and police the frontier.
She may have been right, but I was following up on a hunch. And judging from this guard’s reaction, my instincts had served me well yet again.
“I doubt that any of our patrons would interest you,” the Kolathi man blubbered. “We’re very discerning about our clientele, and we would never—”
“Harbor fugitives?” I asked. “Protect known Vin Aetheri sympathizers?”
The man nearly choked on his own spit, and I grinned beneath my mask. I had precious few memories of my childhood, but I recalled being terrified of Kolathi brutes just like him. Thanks to their towering frames and bestial strength, the monstrous giant-men ruled the slums and warrens of most cities almost by default. My family had been endlessly threatened and intimidated by Kolathi-led street gangs until Emperor Kamir had claimed me as his bride. Now, all these years later, this thug was no more threatening to me than an ant beneath my boot.
“If you’d like, I can fetch Master Garaad for you,” the guard said after a moment. “I’m sure he would be happy to discuss anything you wanted.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said once I reached the top of the staircase. I made a show of casting aside my cloak just to ensure that every gawker in the street got a good, long look at my armor and the glowing white latticework of tattoos covering my right arm and navel. “No one else will enter or leave this establishment until my business is concluded—is that clear?”
“A-as you wish, my lady,” he stammered. “Please, just finish your business here and leave.”
I glared down at him for another moment, the fingers of my right hand idly tapping the handle of my sword until I could see the sweat beading on his brow. To some of the onlookers in the street—particular the foreigners—the sight of an eight-foot tall Kolathi male groveling before a five-and-a-half-foot-tall human woman would have been absurd. Most of Last Hope’s citizens would know better, of course. Even if they had never actually set foot in Narthil, they were surely familiar with the Dragon Brides and our power.
Once I was convinced he was properly cowed, I stepped past him and pushed my way into the brothel. It was as loud and raucous as I’d expected; the debauchery easily rivaled the seediest whorehouse back home in Narthil. Drunken sailors and mercenaries, lotus-addled caravan riders and Deadlander scavengers—they were all there in more or less equal measure. Lord Garaad, the establishment’s bloated Basarn owner, had been driven out of the country three separate times thanks to his dual penchant for smuggling and slaving. With a single glance around the main floor, I identified a half-dozen illegal drinks and herbs from Luvani firewine to Thantric lotus, and I highly doubted that he paid any of his topless wenches more than a few coppers for every cock they drained.
I only managed three steps before a startled, horrified silence cascaded across the room. Half of the customers probably crossed the border on a fairly regular basis, and the looks on their faces when they saw my mask and armor could only be described as existential dread. But the other half—those who only knew the Dragon Brides by reputation—actually looked even more terrified.
“Soren Drell,” I announced, using my sorcery to amplify the volume of my voice. “He is here among you—or was, until recently. Anyone who tells me where this man is will curry the favor of Emperor Kamir. Anyone who tries to hide him will suffer the Dragon God’s wrath. Now speak!”
I didn’t expect anyone to help me immediately. Not because they were loyal—virtually everyone in this cesspool would sell their own mothers for a dozen coppers—but because sometimes fear took while to worm its way through the bloodstream. I knew I would have to make an example of someone, and thankfully one of mercenaries near the door “volunteered.”
The man swung his legs out from beneath his table as surreptitiously as he could, his eyes flicking between me and the exit when I crept forward another step. He was either too drunk or too stupid to realize I could see his reflection in the window, not to mention the dozens of empty steins scattered across the bar. When he finally made his move and lunged for the doorknob, I casually extended my left arm and allowed my master’s power to flow through me.
A wave of telekinetic force lifted the mercenary from the ground and
slammed him against the door hard enough that the wood splintered. He yelped pitifully as the air wheezed from his lungs, and several of the wenches screamed and dove behind the bar. When some of the customers tried to join them, I warned them off with a cold glare.
“I am not leaving until someone tells me where I can find Drell,” I said. “Neither is anyone else.”
“He’s in the back with some of the other girls!” one of the wenches blurted out from beneath a table to my right. Her hand was still wrapped around a sailor’s cock, and her lips were wet with saliva and semen. “He came with a friend, a Retharri mutt calling himself Nolax. He’s right over—”
Before the girl could finish her sentence, the Retharri tried to run. I whipped my head around just in time to watch the man leap out of his chair and sprint for the window. At the same time, I heard several surprised, girlish shrieks from the back rooms as Drell also scrambled to escape. I knew I wouldn’t be able to reach him before he slipped outside, but I wasn’t worried. None of these traitors were going to escape the wrath of the Dragon God tonight.
Extending my right hand, I channeled the master’s power through my fingertips and unleashed a single crackling bolt of purple-white lightning. The arcing blast struck Nolax in the chest a heartbeat before he reached the window. I didn’t channel enough energy to kill him, but the electricity surged though his body and momentarily paralyzed his muscles. His legs seized up mid-stride, and he toppled forward and smashed his head into the windowsill before he flopped over onto his back, unconscious.
Another ripple of stunned silence shuddered through the brothel. Sparks of electricity continued crackling up and down Nolax’s body for several moments, and the acrid stench of singed flesh burned my nostrils. I was tempted to stick around for a bit longer just to make certain they understood the price of crossing my master, but my target was already getting away.
“Do not allow him to leave until I return, or you will be punished,” I commanded, swiveling my eyes around the bar. “All of you.”
Spinning on a heel, I turned and glared at the thug still flattened against the door by my magic. I flung him aside like a ragdoll, then pushed the door back open and stormed outside. The Kolathi guard was nowhere to be seen, unsurprisingly, but locating Drell was even easier than I had hoped. I saw him dash into a narrow alleyway behind the brothel, his hands still frantically trying to secure his belt and breeches. He had perhaps a hundred yard lead on me, and he likely assumed that between the cover of night and Last Hope’s labyrinthine roads he could escape my pursuit without much trouble.
If so, it would his last mistake. The Dragon God granted his wives many gifts, including the ability to see through darkness as easily and vividly as if it were light. I watched him vanish into the alley, and I knew exactly where he would try to flee. I had committed every road, every corner, and every building in this city to memory on my way here. All that preparation was about to pay off.
Gritting my teeth in determination, I broke into a flat sprint. My master’s power coursed through my muscles, bolstering my speed and stamina far beyond the limits of a normal human. I didn’t try to cut Drell off at the alley’s back entrance, nor did I try and block him from turning into the adjoining streets. From an onlooker’s perspective, it probably didn’t seem like I was chasing him at all. It wasn’t until I reached the massive fountain in the center of the market plaza that I finally came to a halt and unsheathed my sword.
The few drunken louts who were still outside at this hour scrambled into the shadows at the sight of me, and by the time my target emerged from another alley the two of us were completely alone.
“Soren Drell,” I called out. I channeled a spark of power into my sword, and a moment later the steel began glowing brightly enough to illuminate most of the plaza. “You are hereby charged with murder, theft, and treason against the people of Narthil. By the order of the Dragon God, you are to submit and return with me to Thalamar for judgment.”
Drell’s first reaction was sheer disbelief. His second was reflexive terror. For an instant, I thought he might actually turn around and dart back into the alley, but then his body language suddenly and inexplicably changed. He stood straight up and sauntered forward, a dark smile on his lips.
“You’re late, little bride—I expected you days ago,” Drell said. His voice was as calm as if he were reading off the inventory from a ship’s manifest. “Then again, I also expected my people to warn me once you’d entered the city. Apparently you’re more cunning than the average dragon whore.”
“Throw down your weapons and surrender,” I demanded. “I will not ask again.”
“Good. That will save us both some time.”
My brow furrowed in confusion, and I was happier than ever for the mask concealing my features. Either he was an incredibly good actor or he wasn’t intimidated by me in the slightest. The sheer arrogance was astonishing…
“You could make this easy on yourself,” Drell went on. “I promised Garaad that he could have you, but if you surrender and come along quietly I can probably convince him to seek his vengeance elsewhere. Assuming you didn’t actually kill anyone in the brothel…”
“You’re mad,” I hissed. “Or you’re stalling.”
Drell shook his head. His dark eyes were bizarrely arresting, and he was considerably younger than I’d expected. “I’m trying to offer you a way out,” he said. “I don’t even know you, girl, and I don’t particularly enjoy killing children even when they’re wearing that mask.”
I opened the fingers of my free hand, and lightning crackling in my palm. “One way or another,” I said, “you will kneel before the power of the Dragon God!”
Thrusting out my palm, I unleashed another crackling bolt of purple-white lightning. The marketplace flashed like a storm had just gathered in the skies above, and I expected Drell to crumple into a twitching heap just like his cohort back in the brothel.
Instead, he casually raised his own hand and absorbed the blast.
“Your ‘god’ may have taught you magic, but I know for a fact he’s also filled your head with lies,” Drell said, his voice still impossibly serene even as the sparks of energy dissipated harmlessly in his palm. “He is not the only source of power in this world, and you, my dear, have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
My mouth fell open in disbelief. I’d heard rumors that the Vin Aetheri had discovered a new source of magic, of course; they claimed that their leader, the so-called “Conduit,” was a font of sorcerous energy every bit as powerful as my master. The First Wife had dismissed their claims as pure propaganda, however, despite all the rumors about renegade sorcerers infesting the Deadlands and the Reach. I hadn’t questioned her judgement, but now that I had actually seen one in action…
There is only one true source of power in this world, my instructors had told me over and over again at the academy. The Dragon God freed Narthil from the yoke of the Avetharri, and only through his will can Varellon be delivered from the barbarians of the Deadlands and the petty tyrants of the Five Kingdoms. You and you sister-wives have been chosen to channel his might. Your obedience—your sacrifice—is all that stands between this world and annihilation.
“Please, surrender,” Drell said into the long pause. “I promise I’ll find a way to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection,” I growled. “I wanted to bring you back alive, but I’m sure my master will settle for your smoking corpse!”
I unleashed yet another torrent of energy, and this time I didn’t hold back. I channeled enough power to burn him to a crisp rather than merely incapacitate him. My tattoos glowed so brightly they lit up the marketplace, and I clenched my teeth and shielded my eyes with my sword…
It still wasn’t enough. Drell’s face twisted in concentration and his brow beaded with sweat, but somehow he absorbed the arcing blasts. When the sparks finally faded, he shook his head and sighed.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I
wish we could have found you before that monster you call master.”
He turned and vanished back into the shadows. When I charged forward in pursuit, I caught a flicker of movement from the other side of the marketplace. A gang of musclebound thugs—at least a dozen in total—rushed out of the darkness from all directions to box me in. I recognized a few of them from the brothel, but the rest had likely gathered while Drell had stalled me. They were an eclectic mix of races, from human to Basarn to Avetharri. Their single unifying trait was the fearless, sadistic scowl on their faces.
“Stand aside!” I ordered, magically amplifying my voice just like back at the brothel. “Anyone who interferes will be executed as a traitor to the Onyx Throne!”
“You’re not in Narthil anymore, Dragon Whore,” one of the men sneered. “Your husband can’t protect you here!”
As the thugs continued closing in on me, I risked a quick glance over at the speaker. He was standing at the edge of the market, his face half concealed in the shadows, but I would have recognized Lord Garaad’s chubby cheeks and crooked nose anywhere.
“The Dragon God’s power is everywhere,” I said. “All who stand against him will—”
“You can’t intimidate them, you stupid cunt,” Garaad snarled. “They’ve killed your kind before, and they’re as sick of your master as I am.”
I swallowed heavily and tightened my grip on my sword. “Take another step, and you are all as good as dead.”
Garaad chortled. “They’re going to break you in half, girl, and once they’ve had their fun they’re going to mount your head on a spike and nail your tits to the wall. Everyone in Last Hope will finally understand who really rules the Deadlands.”
The thugs charged. Few conventional war colleges taught their students to fend off so many opponents at once for obvious reasons, but the Dragon Bride academy was anything but conventional. I had been swarmed by groups of my sister-wives many times, partially to teach me how to handle a mob but mostly to teach me how to endure pain. My sisters had broken my bones and sliced open my flesh more times than I could count, but my regenerative magic could heal almost any wound.