by Megan Linski
Table of Contents
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
Chapter Twenty
SONG OF SMOKE AND FIRE
Song of Dragonfire #1
Megan Linski
Copyright © 2017 Gryfyn Publishing
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The reproduction or utilization of this work in part of in whole including xerography, recording, and photocopying is strictly forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
BISAC Category: Romance/Fantasy
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Manufactured in the United States of America
Contents
Other Books by Megan Linski
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
Chapter Twenty
Change of Wind and Storms (The Dragonsong Saga #2)
Acknowledgments
The Witch’s Curse
About the Author
Other Books by Megan Linski
Alora by Megan Linski
These Starcrossed Lives of Ours by Megan Linski
The Rhodi Saga
Rhodi’s Light by Megan Linski
Rhodi Rising by Megan Linski
Rhodi’s Lullaby by Megan Linski
Creatures of the Lands Series (co-written with Krisen Lison)
Kiatana’s Journey by Natalie Erin
Vera’s Song by Natalie Erin
Wyntier’s Rise by Natalie Erin
Vixen’s Fate by Natalie Erin
Midnightstar by Natalie Erin
Angel’s Rebellion by Natalie Erin
The Shifter Prophecy
Court of Vampires
Den of Wolves
War of Witches
Heir to Russia
Chapter One
I believe the gods hate me, because dragons follow me everywhere.
Cries of fire and thunder roll above my head as the village descends into chaos. Flames light up the roof of wooden shacks as peasants scamper out of them, searching for safety, but there’s none to be found.
I rarely leave the fortress, so it’s typical that a dragon would pick today to decide to rampage through town. The dragon flies overhead, torching tiny houses below with its fiery breath, its wings casting a shadow over what was before just a simple, sunny summer’s day. Villagers get caught in the mud and fall on their faces while attempting to escape. They climb over and push each other out of the way to get free.
It is then the dragon descends.
When he lands, the entire earth shakes. The dragon walks on four legs, feet tapered with large, sharp claws longer and sharper than swords. His tail is lined with spines that are taller than I am. Its leathery wings stretch out among the streets and send peasants hurtling into the sky when it stretches them. Its copper scales shimmer under the glare of the sun. When it opens its mouth, rolling its head back to scream a mighty roar, dagger-like teeth glint with blood and victory.
Brave young men grab axes, spears, and bows, and charge toward the dragon with the intent of slaughtering it. The smart ones turn and flee. I’m stuck to the spot, and watch as the blades bounce off the monster’s hide. The dragon’s scales are too tough. The villagers can’t even make a scratch upon them.
I wonder where all the knights are before I remember they’re gone. They’re searching the countryside for this particular dragon, who thought it’d be a great idea to visit the minute they left Krakow.
The dragon bends his head down, snaps a man up in its jaws and devours him whole.
I do the only thing I can; clutch the princess’s dress to my chest and run.
It’s ridiculous that all I care about is saving Wanda’s gown when there’s a giant, flame-spewing lizard gambling after me, but I’ll be the first to admit I don’t have much sense. The mud sticks to my bare feet and splashes onto my tunic as I sprint away from the bloody massacre. I hold the gown high so I don’t get any mud on it.
The tall towers of the fortress, built with strong and thick timber, look like nothing more than nice kindling for the dragon’s hot breath, but there’s nowhere else to hide. I force my way through the crowd of people begging for sanctuary and pound on the doors myself and scream for them to let me in, but since there’s a dragon attack going on, they’re not going to open up.
Obviously, Fliss, I think to myself, and I roll my eyes. I look up the tall towers and smirk. Fine. There’s more than one way in.
I stuff the dress in my sheepskin bag, sling it over my back and start climbing. Other villagers notice me and go to follow my lead, but many of them aren’t strong enough to climb, and they go sliding back down. Another roar from the dragon shakes the village. I glance over my shoulder to see what’s going on.
I give a yelp as I see that the dragon has abandoned its delicious snack in town and is flying toward the fortress instead. The dragon hurtles through the skies, swooping over the towers before lunging at them. I flatten myself against the wall, and nearly get gutted by the spike of its tail as it flies past me.
When the dragon circles back around its head dives directly for the northeastern tower which, not-so-coincidentally, happens to be the one I’m climbing. The dragon gives a cry of rage as he barrels through it, tearing the tower in two. I have to claw at the tower to keep my grip as the dragon blasts through it.
Wonderful, I think as the palace starts tipping backwards. That’s my luck, isn’t it? Should’ve expected it. Readying myself, I cling closely to the tower as it falls.
I bend my knees and spring off just before the tower hits the ground. My body hits the hard earth, and I roll out of the way as the tower shatters into a pile of splinters and rubble beside me.
I’m far too clumsy for that to have worked, but it did. Maybe the gods are on my side.
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Now that the tower is gone there’s a big hole in the fortress, which all the peasants are scrambling through. I climb over the debris after them, checking to make sure the dress is still in my bag.
While I’m distracted the dragon smashes into the second tower, cleaving that one in half as well. Archers go flying off the roof at the impact.
Wails reach my ears. There’s a little girl, no older than two, standing beneath the falling tower and crying loudly as it topples toward her.
Kid, move, I think, but when she doesn’t, I grumble to myself and spring forward. I trip over my own feet while running to save her.
I snatch her up in my arms at the last minute and cling her to my chest. I hear the tower crashing behind me as I jump out of the way, landing most of my weight on my shoulder.
I moan in pain. The little girl is still crying, but she’s alive. I get up, looking for a safe place to go when a woman I don’t know slams into me from the side. She rips the baby out of my arms and teeters away, the child bouncing up and down on her hip.
“You’re welcome, it was nothing,” I mutter under my breath. Typical Poles.
The dragon lets out a loud shriek. I put my hands over my ears, crouch down and open my mouth in a silent scream of pain. Dragon shouts can be heard many distances away, so up close it’s enough to shatter your ears.
It doesn’t take long for me to realize I’m one of the few that’s left out in the open. I bang on all the doors, yank on the handles and scream for sanctuary, but I doubt anyone can hear me. I try the door to the kitchen, the foyer, even the dungeons. I try the smithy last. I slap them repeatedly till the front of my hand is red and sore.
No good. All locked up.
I look for a hiding place, before I notice the dragon has spotted me. He ambles toward me with footsteps that quake the ground, sparks flitting out of his nostrils. I let out a pitiful noise and back up against the wall, where the dragon’s got me cornered.
“Someone help,” I whimper, but nobody hears.
I’m the only one left in the square with a large, terrifying, and very hungry dragon.
Chapter Two
I don’t like to fantasize about my death, but whenever it crossed my mind I always imagined I’d die from old age while surrounded by grandchildren, or maybe from some plague, as that seems like a popular way to go these days.
But of course, the sum of my life will result in being eaten by some dragon. For me, there’s no other way it could possibly end.
My empty hand scrabbles for something. I find the end of an abandoned poker on the edge of the blacksmith’s forge, and pick it up. My whole arm trembles as I hold the poker aloft, pointing it at the monster. The dragon’s eyes glint maliciously, as if he’s mocking me.
Well, if I’m to die, I’ll leave behind a tale they can remember. My lips crack a silly smile, though my legs are shaking and I feel like I’m going to vomit. What a story this’ll make. I imagine all the knights around the fire, laughing over their mugs of ale as they recall the princess’s skinny little slave, awkwardly wielding a smithy poker before the dragon swallows her whole. Hopefully Wanda will find it funny, after she finds a new handmaiden.
My last foolish thought before I charge is what the inside of a dragon’s belly looks like. I raise the poker high above my head and swing it down onto the dragon’s snout just as it’s about to breath out a jet of flame.
The dragon sniffs. It moves its mouth in a circle before charging again, jaws wide.
With no other ideas, I reach into my bag. The dress will be ruined if I get eaten anyway, so I might as well use it. I toss Wanda’s gown so that it falls over the eyes of the dragon. When it’s blindfolded for a millisecond, I lunge the poker forward. I know that piercing its scales won’t work, so I go for the gums instead and jab the poker inside the dragon’s mouth.
I get a few wounds in, and even draw some blood before the dragon shakes the dress off. The dragon stomps on it, twisting the dress into the ground with its paw and baring its fangs.
That didn’t work. I just made it angrier. I dance away as the dragon snaps its jaws far too close. He nearly gets me three times, but I somehow manage to avoid his fangs each time.
I’m very quick, and it’s making him mad. This time when he comes near, I use all my strength to whip the poker against the right side of the dragon’s head.
His neck snaps around. I feel a quell of victory before I realize what I just did.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I blabber quickly. Smoke furls out of its nostrils, and the dragon gives an enraged puff.
I don’t think about how absurd it is that I actually apologized to a dragon until he grabs me in one of his giant paws. I drop the poker and try to pull away, but his grip is too strong. Each time I wiggle, he only tightens his grip. I can no longer breathe.
I’m surprised to feel relief as the dragon’s sharp claws press around me. I lasted this long. At least it was only a slave, they’ll say. I doubt when they tally up the final death toll that I’ll even be counted.
The dragon takes a deep breath, preparing to roast me in its claws. I close my eyes and hope it doesn’t hurt.
Somebody screams, and it’s not the dragon. The beast’s eyes are just as wide as mine as King Krakus comes charging out of nowhere, swinging his silver axe high above the dragon’s neck.
He brings it down with a ferocious yell, and the axe cuts roughly through the dragon’s spine. It takes a few chops from Krakus, but eventually, the king manages to lop off the dragon’s head. The head sploshes mud everywhere as it crashes onto the ground.
The dragon’s grip loosens when the head is severed from the neck. I collapse onto my knees and bite my lip as my muscles burn in agony.
The dragon’s mouth and eyes are still open in surprise. I press a hand to my mouth and try not to look at it.
“Are you all right, child?” King Krakus towers above me, a square crown upon his head, ringed byrne over his leather tunic. His bearskin cloak thankfully blocks out the gruesome sight of the beheaded monster behind him.
“Yes, sire.” I nod quickly, and get to my feet. That’s the second time he’s saved me from being killed by a dragon. As if one life debt wasn’t enough.
“A lucky thing I arrived when I did,” King Krakus says. He surveys the dragon, then me. “The knights should start bringing you along on these dragon hunts. You must be cursed.”
He laughs loudly, but I don’t. He’s made a joke, but I’m starting to believe I really am cursed.
Now that the dragon’s dead, people are coming out of their hiding spots to observe the fallen monster. Little boys who were running in terror minutes ago poke the dragon’s body with sticks and run along its tail, playing tag between the spikes.
“Get inside, Fliss,” the king tells me. “Wanda has need of you.”
I curtsy and trot away, happy to leave the dragon’s body behind. For some peculiar reason, to me, seeing the dragon dead is worse than seeing it alive.
Its dark inside the fortress, but I know my way around. I follow the twisting hallways until I come to Wanda’s room. When I knock, the door flies open.
“There you are!” Princess Wanda, a dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty, loops her arms around me immediately and pulls me in for a bone-crushing hug. Most people in the fortress would whisper about a princess embracing a slave, but Wanda gets away with everything. I embrace her back just as tightly.
“I was watching from my window. I saw you fight back,” she says in awe. “You were so brave with that poker. I admire that. Most girls wouldn’t have dared.”
“What did you expect me to do?” I ask. “Throw my hands up and say, ‘Well, you caught me?’”
“I wouldn’t have done anything, just stood there and screamed.” Wanda shrugs.
“That’s helpful.” I make a sour face. “I’m sorry about your dress, Wanda. The dragon ruined it.”
“I couldn’t care less about the dress!” she says outlandishly. “I’m just happy you’re not hurt!
”
“You should care about the dress. It cost a handful of coins.” More money than I’ve ever seen in my lifetime.
I notice that the room is a bit messy. Nervously, I start tidying up. I make the bed before putting away her dresses.
It’s just to keep my hands busy. So I don’t think about the dragon.
Wanda notices. “Are you sure you’re well?”
“I told you I’m fine.” I pause. “If you could call nearly being eaten by a dragon fine. But that’s normal for me.”
“I suppose you’re right. It isn’t anything that hasn’t happened before. Let’s be happy Father was there again to protect you.” She giggles.
“Yes, I know,” I sigh. King Krakus, legendary prince of Poles, the famous dragon slayer. Founder of the village of Krakow, and savior of slaves.
Or slave. One slave. Me.
“Let’s go take scales from the dragon,” Wanda says enthusiastically. “I believe they make beautiful jewelry. They would go well with my brown dress.”
“Must we?” The thought of seeing the dead dragon again churns my stomach.
“It’ll be fun. You can take some as well,” she encourages. “Quickly, before they move the corpse.”
I don’t want any dragon scales, but I can’t say no to Wanda, so I follow her dutifully out the door and to the courtyard. She’s walking in a determined fashion, before her steps slow when she hears low voices in the throne room.
Wanda, ever the curious gossip, throws out an arm to stop me. I slam into it and go careening backwards. Wanda grabs me by the tunic and wrenches me upright, so I don’t crash to the ground and alert others of our presence.