by Emily L K
The Dragon’s Throne
Book One | The Dragon’s Song Series
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE DRAGON'S THRONE
First edition. March 4, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Emily L K.
Written by Emily L K.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
The Dragon's Throne (The Dragon's Song, #1)
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
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Epilogue
Follow the Fandom
Prior to the war the Dijem had been a magnificent race, one of travellers and story tellers, knowledge bringers and peace makers. The humans welcomed our presence. They knew without our long-lived gift of hindsight they would plunge the realm into one of violence and chaos.
That was before Cadmus, one of our own, brought the weight of the world crashing upon his own race. It was, perhaps, our own fault he got so close to making his ambitions a reality. He’d voiced his desires more than once, even tried to sway some of the Houses to his side, so why did we not heed the warnings he himself gave us?
- Jarrah of the House of Sarkans
Chapter One
Gleaming green scales flashed through Cori's mind. She pressed her free hand to her forehead. For a disorientating moment, the floor tilted below her feet. She spread her fingers wide beneath the golden serving tray to keep the drinks upon it from upending. Her heart hammered as if she’d been running.
“Cori?”
She willed the dizziness away and turned her head to the side to see Dahl behind her.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Her lips were dry and her mouth parched, even though she’d just had a glass of water before leaving the kitchen.
Dahl grinned, the smile slightly lopsided and a little goofy. “Nervous, are you?”
Of course she was. Serving in this matter wasn’t her normal role. Usually on a night like this she’d be in the kitchen helping her mother cook, but a stomach bug had done the rounds and servers were short staffed, so she and a few of the other servant youths had been nominated for the task.
“Remember,” old Tarp said in front of her, the candles in their brackets on the wall throwing the lines of his weathered face into sharp relief. “Eyes down, tray up, and keep moving.”
Cori lowered her eyes to the stone floor. The pavers here were square, yet had been polished so smooth that underfoot, they blended seamlessly with the grout lines. The servants around her were quiet, but beyond the tall double doors the sounds of revelry reached them. Trilling laughter and deep throated conversations. But it wasn’t the only thing she could hear. She squeezed her eyes closed and willed away the voices in her mind.
Perhaps "voices" wasn’t the right descriptor. Normally soft hisses imbued with a reptilian cast, they now sang a strange and haunting melody. Wordless. She’d never been able to decipher their meaning, no matter how hard she strained to hear, and she’d long ago given up chasing the forever retreating shadows they created. Tonight was no different. She tried to push them away and gave up, as always, when they clamoured back at her.
The doors ahead swung open, silent on their hinges, and Cori straightened, straining to glimpse the room ahead. A cacophony of noise and light flooded out over the servants and Cori could immediately smell the heavy perfumes and smoking herbs. She set her feet in motion, following Tarp into the throne room and the party that awaited them.
Cori’s eyes widened. A soft gasp of awe escaped her lips. The hall she only had three walls. To the northeast a series of stone arches opened into the public gardens. Beyond these and over the rumble of animated conversations, tinkling glasses, and fast music, the ocean waves rushed against the cliffs below.
Cori held her tray high as she and the others slipped among the clusters of dancing guests. They twirled with flaring dresses and shining boots. Sequinned details and jewellery heavy with gemstones caught in the light of the chandeliers above.
Tarp veered left, and Cori went right. The party guests swept drinks from her tray as she passed by. Always she kept her head ducked in accordance with the decorum laws that had been drummed into her and the others incessantly, but after several minutes of wending around dancers and through conversations, she realised that not a single person so much as glanced at her, let alone thanked her. The tray of drinks might have well have been carried by magic. She decided to be more frank in her observations.
For fifteen years she’d heard stories about these people, but rarely had she met any of this celebration's participants, and even on those few occasions she had only encountered those who held senior positions in the palace staff. This party was different. These were the Hiram nobility, blessed with wealth, power and disproportionately long lives. Well, longer than humans anyway. Tarp was the oldest human that Cori knew and he looked every one of his ninety years. In comparison, Tarp claimed the Advisor was close to fifty years his senior, yet he looked little older than forty-five.
The Hiram looked no different to humans, but all servants knew they were quick to temper. They also possessed a hidden magic though no servants Cori knew had ever seen it. The Karalis forbade its use in the palace.
The Karalis.
As the music died between songs and as dancers cleared to the edges of the room to talk with friends and refill drinks, Cori had an unimpeded view of the front of the hall. There he was upon the dais, sitting on a white-wood throne carved in the shape of a dragon, the saviour of Tauta.
Cori offered another drink from her tray and moved closer. Excitement made her heart race. When she’d agreed to be a server for the evening, she’d secretly hoped she might see the ruler of the realm.
The Karalis was younger than she expected. With a clean-shaven face and dark hair tied in a short tail, he appeared no older than thirty. His eyes, however, said otherwise. Unnaturally golden, they almost pulsed with power and wisdom.
Two Hiram passed Cori, taking the last two drinks from her gold tray. She ducked her head momentarily, watching their twin sets of black boots glide by. Neither tied their laces, rather tucked them into the shoe beneath the feet. When she looked up again, the dancing had resumed and she could barely see the dais over the heads of the guests. She cursed her slight stature.
With a sigh, she returned to the back of the hall where another servant waited with a trolley of wine to refill glasses. Her fingers drummed impatiently on the trolley and when her tray was restocked she took it quickly and moved to the left side of the hall where the arches led to the dark gardens. A salty breeze touched her skin, reliev
ing her from the tang of sweat and perfumes that permeated the room. She offered drinks to a group of younger Hiram conversing in the shadows of one archway. One of them offered thanks, though none of them looked at her. She inclined her head anyway before moving on.
From this side of the hall she couldn’t see the Karalis, but the mural on the wall behind him was visible. From ceiling to floor, the artwork depicted a fearsome battle against a black dragon. The dragon had an open maw and blasted flame upon warriors who faced it fearlessly though none of them held weapons. It was a tale Cori knew well, one that parents told their children at bedtime.
The black dragon was Daiyu. Together with Cadmus - one of the Dijem - they sought to overthrow their kin and seize dominance over the realm of Tauta. Somehow, the remaining Dijem combined their strength and banished Cadmus and Daiyu from the realm. Where they were now, no-one knew. The Karalis had come to power some time after The Last Fight, and some said he was the only one who stood between Cadmus and the realm.
Dancers shifted again, and once more the throne became visible. The Karalis stared above the heads of his subjects, his expression set. Tendrils of dark hair framed his face. He wore a dyed leather vest over a dark grey shirt that had golden threads of embroidery sewn in intricate patterns of leaves and vines. Apparently he was the last Dijem left. Any others who has survived The Last Fight had vanished.
“Pass the drinks, server!”
Cori jumped. She hadn’t been paying attention and now two men scowled at her from a few feet away.
“Yes. Sorry,” she said, hurrying towards them. It didn’t escape her that they could have easily taken the few steps towards her to get their drinks.
After that she barely found a moment to breathe, let alone continue to admire the throne room. Drinks flowed endlessly, and the revelry ramped up to a fever pitch. Cori ducked and wove around bodies, sometimes barely keeping her tray upright. Her feet and legs ached. She stifled a yawn. If she’d been working in the kitchens as normal, she would have been in bed hours ago.
For a time she tried to keep the Karalis in sight. After all the stories she’d heard, she hoped he’d do something spectacular. But he did nothing more that occasionally shift his gaze from the hall to the gardens and she soon lost interest. After what felt like an eternity, the grounds beyond the throne room lightened with the dawn. The sun broke the horizon and a well-placed shaft of light pierced the arches and fell over the throne and the mural behind it. Finally, the Karalis stood. The music abruptly ceased, and the hall fell silent save for the shuffle as everyone fell to their knees in deference. Cori joined them, her arm stretched above her head with the tray, lest she hit anyone with it.
She waited with bated breath, but the Karalis merely left the hall via a stone doorway behind his throne. His departure signalled the end of the party and the revellers stood, leaving both through the main door at the back and the archways in laughing and chattering groups. Cori watched the door behind the dais for a moment longer, disappointed that the Karalis had done nothing more than sit on his throne all night.
“Over here,” Dahl said to Cori as he passed her. She followed him and lined up with the other servers along the wall. There they waited in uniform silence until the hall was clear.
Tarp was the first to move. He coughed loudly and lowered his tray. The other servants followed suit and Cori winced at the cramping in her arm as she lowered her own. Dahl laughed at her. “I won’t be volunteering for this job again,” she told him.
“We’re not done yet,” was his reply. He took her tray from her and placed it in a stack on a trolley that was rolled past by another servant. “Now, we clean.” Cori groaned and took up the cleaning cloth that was offered to her.
The servants of the palace were all human. They had neither long lives nor the magic of the Dijem or Hiram. Of course, most weren’t pure human and almost all could name a Hiram in their family line, but their talents had become diluted through the generations and were effectively useless.
Cori found Tarp and followed the old servant up the hall towards the empty throne. Despite her exhaustion, the extravagance of the huge wooden chair was impressive. The white wood was pure, with no sign of knots in its cut.
The voices in her head babbled with excitement, rising to a level of irritability she could barely ignore. Their whispering grew more pronounced as she approached the throne and she clapped a hand over one ear in a useless attempt to dispel the noise out the other.
Close up, she could see the exquisite detail in the carvings. A great dragon wound up and around the chair, its snout forming the left arm of the throne. The morning light glinted off its smoothed scales – an effect of the grain in the wood rather than manmade - and when Cori moved her head, it seemed as if the dragon writhed. Her eyes travelled the curves of the dragon’s body. Its sharp claws were curled, clutching the wood of which it was made, and its nostrils were wide as if drawing breath to create flame. Its eyes were set with bright green gemstones and as Cori stared into them, they blinked lazily at her. She gasped and stumbled back, a thrill of fear running down her spine.
“What happened?” Tarp asked. Already he was clearing glasses from a table below the dais.
“It blinked at me!” Heart in her throat, she took a step towards the throne, staring intently at the dragon’s eyes.
“Don’t be daft,” Tarp scoffed. “That’s just your exhaustion talking. Now get over here and help me clean. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can retire to bed.”
Cori obeyed the old man and moved to his side, dutifully wiping down the table as he cleared it. She threw furtive glances at the dragon but it stayed as lifeless as the wood it was carved from.
When they finally returned to the kitchens Cori’s mother, Bel, greeted them.
“Good morning, darling. How was your night?” It was difficult to hear over the clamour of the cooks who prepared breakfast for the day. The other servers filed in, stowing their trays under benches and greeting their morning shift counterparts.
“It was long. I’m tired.” She leaned into the embrace her mother offered. Over Bel’s shoulder her sister, Saasha, roll her eyes.
“Well then, I think you best have something to eat, then off to bed with you.”
Her mother gave her a slice of fresh bread and jam for her breakfast, and Cori accepted it gratefully.
“I better not have to do any of her jobs,” Saasha grumbled. Cori, grateful for her mother’s reprieve, ignored her sister’s jab and headed for the sleeping quarters. She quickly washed her face in the basin of clean water that her mother kept handy on the dresser before climbing into the big soft bed. She fell into an exhausted slumber, her rest plagued with glittering, snarling dragons.
Chapter Two
Sleep hadn't been easy since the night she'd waited on the party in the throne room. The voices in her head had suddenly ceased, but what replaced them was much worse; vividly coloured dragons now haunted her dreams. Some nights they didn’t deign to notice her, but more often than not they circled about, snarling and snapping. Her mind frayed under their onslaught, and she'd woke from these dreams sweating and out of breath and almost too tired to begin her day’s shift in the kitchen.
Only once in the weeks since the gathering had her dream varied. It started, as usual, with a shimmering dragon swimming through the blackness of her mind, a beast with scales of emerald green. Always the dragon’s reflected a glow as if a candle was held up to their scales, but if Cori looked in the direction of the light, she could only see darkness. She shrunk against herself, praying the dragon wouldn’t notice her, but even as she willed herself smaller, it turned its piercing yellow eyes on her. With a snort of smoke, it twisted its sinuous body in her direction. Its maw opened wide, giving her a frightful view of its pointed teeth and forked tongue. She scrunched her eyes closed and whimpered. Normally she could force herself into wakefulness but tonight, instead of the dragon’s jaw snapping over her, she heard a man’s voice, deep and melodic, pen
etrated the dream.
“Be calm, Little One,” he said to her. She opened her eye a crack. The dragon was still there but it no longer attacked, instead it wove circles upon itself in confusion. Cori thought she could hear music. A sweet song, though it seemed far away. “Rest easy.” The man’s voice faded away into blackness, as did the dragon. Cori tried to ponder his words but instead she fell into a deeper, dreamless sleep. After his visit the dragons, while still present, mostly ignored her.
Cori was training to be a cook like her mother and sister. Her mother, as well as the Head Cook Dlores, watched over her tasks with keen eyes and strict instructions, urging her to be quick with a knife, yet diligent with her desserts. She was performing well, and they often praised her for being quick, quiet and resourceful, much to her sister’s teasing. She thrived under their compliments and put all her effort into doing her best. At the age of fifteen though, her training was fast coming to a close and her mother gave her more appropriate tasks in the kitchen, ones that had previously been reserved for Saasha.
It was on the eve of the annual school intake - a time when Hiram children from across the realm descended on Tauta hoping to be selected by the Karalis himself for a place at the School of Auksas - when Bel set Cori to one of the jobs she’d been itching to do; go into Lautan to collect ingredients. Many guests had arrived at the palace over the past days and the cooks, kitchen hands and servers worked overtime to keep them all fed.
The intake for the School of Auksas was possibly the most secretive and yet one of the most talked about events in the court and this year was no exception.
“I bet they have to fight the Karalis himself,” Dahl declared in the bustle of the kitchen as he loaded teapots onto his tray to take up to one of the receiving rooms where several guests had gathered to discuss whatever important things noblemen talked about.
“Don’t be silly,” Tarp scoffed, cuffing Dahl behind the ear as he went past with his now empty tray tucked under his arm. “The children don’t know their magic yet, how can they be expected to fight the Karalis?”