Blood
of the
Dragon
By
Samantha Warren
© 2011 Samantha Warren
Edition II
The following story is a work of fiction and all names and characters are strictly the creation of the author.
All rights reserved.
This publication may not be reproduced or transmitted in any manner without expressed written consent from Samantha Warren.
Cover Art © 2015 Samantha Warren
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Prologue
The dirt and sand along the riverbank glistened darkly in the fading light. The water held a sickly red tinge as the battle waned. Victims of the slaughter lay strewn across the blood-soaked field. Screams of pain and fear echoed through the darkening sky. An enormous red beast struggled feebly, his left wing crushed beneath his massive weight. Aron, leader of the human army, strode haughtily up to the creature and propped a plated boot on its neck.
"Sigurd, king of the dragons." The words shot from the man's mouth like venom. "How does it feel to know you have failed? All your worthless struggles, your miserable attempts at retaining your freedom; all for naught. You're pathetic."
At that, Aron spat in the fallen king's face. Sigurd paid no attention to the man. His one remaining eye was focused on a scene across the field. He lowed hauntingly as he watched his beloved Silene being shackled, forever imprisoned by the wretched conquerors. His trusted friend and captain, Roland, lay torn at her side. Sigurd knew the man would not have allowed such an atrocity to happen had he a breath left. As it was, Silene took out half a dozen of Aron's soldiers before she was subdued, spewing their remains across her captors.
The fallen king tore his gaze from his mate and surveyed the carnage. They had fought valiantly, man and beast alike, side by side. Now they lay dying together on the field of defeat. Aron had the greater force; Sigurd knew that more than a year ago. But he would not give up. He would not surrender his people to slavery at the hands of such a tyrant. He built his army, recruiting any dragon or human who would come to his aide. He even appealed to the Hidden. But it wasn't enough.
The promise of power and wealth drew both men and dragons to Aron's side. The self-proclaimed King of All amassed an army larger than had ever been seen in Layr. Many of Sigurd's own soldiers betrayed him and joined Aron. The memory caused the King of Dragons great sadness, but he could not muster the strength to even shake his head. The betrayal of his most trusted brother, Apoph, had stung the deepest.
Born of the same mother, Sigurd was two years older than Apoph. The red giant felt it his duty to protect his younger sibling. Apoph, black as night both inside and out, hid his treacherous nature from the brother he hoped to one day overthrow. Riding on Sigurd's successes, Apoph advanced to a position of power in the Coalition of Man and Beast. When Aron came forward to challenge the Coalition's right to lead Layr, Apoph took his chance and turned on the brother who had given him everything he had. Along with himself and his immense wealth, Apoph took hundreds of dragons and thousands of men to the aide of Aron.
The massive betrayal turned the tide in the war and Sigurd began suffering costly defeats. After barely a year and a half, all hope for the Coalition hung on a single encounter at the Black River. Blood and fear fell upon both sides as war was viciously waged. The battle lasted three days and thousands upon thousands were sacrificed. Dragons from both factions took to the air. Some battled their opponents skyward, while others rained terror on the wingless beings below.
The human race had been split violently by the war. Many, noble to the last, sided with Sigurd and the Coalition. Still more, however, were swayed by Aron's empty promises of wealth and power. Both sides fought desperately and suffered grievous losses. Of the thousands that met on the battlefield, more than half now lay dead or dying. Dragons and men from opposing armies lay together on the field of death.
Sigurd looked away from the scene as a massive shadow descended upon his broken body. Slowly, he focused his golden eye on the form of his younger brother. Hatred overcame his heart and he struggled to rise. The black beast firmly pushed the defeated creature back to the ground.
"Don't get up on my behalf, brother." Apoph grinned sadistically and looked around, catching a glimpse of the shackled Silene. "It's a shame, really. She was so very pretty. To be demoted from Queen of the Dragons to less than even a slave, how painful that must be for her."
"It won't be as painful as watching her mate breathe his last breath," declared Aron, as he signaled for the captured creature to be brought over. "Bilson, hand me my sword."
Silene fought desperately when she saw her love lying helplessly in the red mud. The blue beauty ripped two of her human handlers in half before the dragons on either side of her could regain control of her.
"Do not struggle, my darling," Sigurd cooed. "Save your strength. You know what must be done."
Aron's kick to the jaw stayed the remaining words resting on Sigurd's tongue. The red behemoth locked eyes with the lovely blue dragon and did not make a sound as the conqueror's sword pierced his tough hide. The blade bit deeply into an artery and an angry torrent of blood flooded to the ground. Silene watched as the life faded from her king's eye, then she turned and ripped a hole in Apoph's flank, punishing him for wandering too close during the murder.
Silene was dragged away to be confined in a dungeon, while an irate Apoph had his wounds tended. Aron surveyed the scene with satisfaction and began plotting his next move.
Chapter 1
"Lana!" her mother called for the third time. "Where is that girl? Chelandra!"
"Yes, mother." The young woman came stumbling through the door from her bedroom, book in hand. Her long, dark hair was still tangled from sleep and she was making a futile attempt to button her sweater.
"Hurry up, Lana," her mother softly scolded. "I need you to run to the tavern and pick up some breakfast for your father. He was stuck at the pens all night and I need to get to the butcher's right quick. He should be at the hatchery by now. Make sure you take him a nice pot of cafe as well."
"Yes, mother." She lifted her chin as her mother finished buttoning her sweater.
"Once you're done with that, go down and grab some soothing oil from Graol. Ryland still has that sore on his shoulder."
Lana sat on the stoop and began to lace her boots. "What? I just got oil. It can't be gone already."
"Just do it."
"Fine. Can I stop by Bolgor's on the way home? I haven't seen him in a couple days."
"I guess so, but don't take too long. The king's man is coming in a few weeks and we need all the dragons in tip-top shape. And Mynora wants you to read to her tonight. She doesn't have much time now, you know. Maybe a month at most."
"Yes, mother."
Lana got up to leave and kissed her mother on the cheek. As she stepped out into the brisk wind, she heard her mother call, "Be home before dark!"
Like all of the king's dragon keepers, they lived within a short walk of the pens. The pens were large, metal buildings connected to massive, steel cages. Each dragon had a small stall inside the buildings, with a private door leading to their own enclosure in one of the cages. Most of the outdoor enclosures were large enough for a dragon to stretch their wings. Inside, the stalls were wide enough for an adult dragon to turn around, but little more. An enormous building to the left of the pens held rooms for the dragons who assisted the keepers, along with the unmarried keepers.
The dragons, refe
rred to as handlers, received special benefits and were given more freedom than the typical dragon. In turn, they were expected to keep the other dragons in line and use violence toward their own species if necessary. While the keepers had some means of handling an unruly dragon, the handlers were often called on to subdue a creature that was out of control.
Those that acted up and didn't follow orders were sent to the pit, a hole in the ground just large enough for a shackled dragon, with a heavy, steel lid that closed using a solid chain that only handlers or a dozen keepers could move. Dragons were sentenced to the pit for any number of indiscretions, from despicable acts such as murder to things as simple as refusing to be ridden. The length of the sentence was determined by the judges, a group of men sent from the king's court, who ruled the pens and kept the town in check, answering only to her father and the king.
Lana shuddered as she looked toward the pit and turned in the other direction, her hair whipping about her face as her pale cheeks quickly turned bright red in the rough wind. Hunching her shoulders against the bite of cold, she trudged through the slush-filled streets toward the tavern.
Her thoughts wandered to the book she'd been reading and the heavy oak door she sought was three buildings behind her before she had noticed where she was. Sighing at her innate ability to be easily distracted, she turned and sloshed back to the great stone structure in the middle of town. A dirty sign hanging above proclaimed the place The Rusty Dragon and creaked on its hinges as she pushed open the door. A gust filled with noise and the smells of food nearly knocked her back down the steps before she pulled herself inside. The door slammed behind her.
Despite it being so early in the morning, the tavern was filled with patrons, some talking noisily at the fire while others drowned their sorrows at the bar. As the small town consisted mostly of keepers, she recognized every face in the room. Old Jorelyn Withers, the tavern owner, was at the center of the crowd in front of the fire, situated firmly in his favorite overstuffed chair. Lana giggled inwardly as she remembered the day a hapless new keeper, transferred from Rona due to his inability to grasp simple instructions, sat in Withers' chair after the man had hobbled away to do some other business for an hour. Needless to say, that young man never, ever sat in Withers' chair again, and he rarely graced the tavern with his presence unless duty required it of him.
Wandering over to the bar, Lana saw Marilyn, Withers' daughter and heir to the Dragon, wiping down the counter even as she served one man breakfast and another a second ale. The woman's red hair whipped about her face and her freckled cheeks developed a flushed hue as the touch of the man eating breakfast brought her to a halt. A smile broke her lips and she leaned across the bar to give her fiance a quick kiss before turning in Lana's direction.
"Hey, Lana darling. How are you today?"
"Heya Lyn. I'm doing good. Can I get some breakfast to go for my papa? And a pot of coffee, please?"
"Sure thing, dear. Declan told me there was some trouble at the hatchery." Marilyn nodded in the direction of her fiance. "Nothing too serious, I hope."
Lana shrugged. "I'm not sure. Mama didn't really say too much this morning. She had to get to the butcher."
"Ah." Marilyn gave Lana a stern look, even as the child grimaced. Lana knew she had slipped up. The butcher shop, run by an old, gentle couple, often gave Lana's parents their day-old meat for free, provided they took it before the shop opened for the day. This meat was in turn given to either the local Gypsies, who lived as outlaws in the woods not far from the town, or the dragons in the hatchery. If there were any dragons in the pit, the meat would be fed to them under cover of darkness, despite the order that any dragons in the pit were not to be given food of any sort until they had served their full sentence. If the judges were in a mood, a dragon could be confined to the pit for more than a month, which was as good as a death sentence in some cases. More often than not, when a dragon was released from the pit, they had to be physically removed by a set of handlers, as they did not have the strength to move on their own.
Marilyn glanced quickly around the room, but only Declan and the drunk man at the bar were in earshot. Tomas, who was on his third ale by this time, winked at Lana and continued to nurse his glass.
Lana bit her lip and changed the conversation. "Is Bolgor working today? I haven't seen him since this weekend."
Marilyn smiled knowingly at the mention of Bolgor. He and Lana had been best friends since before they could walk and spent nearly all their free time together. If more than a couple days passed without the two seeing each other, everyone knew something was wrong. Secret wedding plans were already in the works by Marilyn and Lana's mother, even though the two friends were still denying their true feelings for one another.
"I believe he is due in this afternoon." The barkeep lowered her voice. "He is stopping by the woods before heading in. We need some more special ale for dear Tom over there." Tomas grinned and saluted the ladies with his half empty glass.
"OK, thanks. Hopefully I can catch him there." Lana picked up the basket Marilyn had been busily preparing and gave the woman a hug with one arm. "See you soon!"
Chapter 2
Lana waved over her shoulder as she stepped out into the cold air. She had to walk past the pens in order to reach the hatchery where her father was supposed to be. The weather was quite chilly for this time of year and despite the heavy sweater, Lana was shivering by the time she reached the building. She opened the door and was greeted by a warm, misty breeze.
To the right, she saw the guards' room, separated from the rest of the building by metal bars. The young man on duty made her skin crawl. He was not much older than her, but he was one of her least favorite people. His sallow face always held a bitter expression and he was forever trying to ingratiate himself into her good graces, always by doing the wrong thing. She nearly vomited when she remembered the time he mistakenly thought the gift of a dragons' teeth necklace would win her over. Shaking the memory from her head, she stepped up to the bars.
"Nilon, can you tell me where my father is?"
A slippery smile crossed the man's otherwise stern face. "Sure thing, doll. He's in the nursery. New hatchling this morning. Stupid creature didn't want to leave its mother. I took care of that, though." He straightened proudly, displaying a ripped, blood-spattered shirt as a badge of honor. The blood was clearly not his and Chelandra quivered with hatred and revulsion. She had noticed deep grooves in the floor next to the door of the first stall and she now understood where they had come from.
Waving a weak thank you, she made her way down the center aisle and found Mynora in a stall at the end. There were only six stalls total, as dragons do not reproduce as often as humans. Hatchery stalls did not have outdoor enclosures. Female dragons were brought to the hatchery upon laying their egg and were kept there for the entire two years of incubation.
Once a moon cycle they were taken to a secluded thousand-acre wooded area half a mile from the hatchery, where they were allowed to roam, run, hunt, and fly for two hours. No more than two females were taken at a time and they were always watched by two guardian dragons and a dozen human keepers. Dragons not in the incubation cycle were allowed to use the run, as the wooded area was referred to, once every two moon cycles.
As Mynora was so close to hatching, she was no longer allowed to leave her stall and had been cooped up for the last two cycles. Lana peeked through the bars to the stall and saw the giant, emerald beast curled up around an opalescent oblong object. The egg had grown noticeably darker in the past weeks, indicating the infant inside was ready to spring forth. Mynora lifted her head and smiled as Lana opened the gate and stepped inside. She craned her neck and nuzzled the girl warmly.
"Hi Myno," Lana smiled, throwing her arms around the scaly creature. "How are you today?"
"Hello, darling," Mynora returned. "It's been an atrocious day so far. Tyona's egg hatched, as I'm sure you've heard, and the poor dear thing didn't want to leave his mother. He is on duty
," Mynora nodded her head in Nilon's direction. "So, of course, the matter could not be handled gently." Mynora sighed and lowered her head, absently cradling her own egg a bit closer.
"I'm sorry, Myno." Lana stroked the beast's brow. "I wish there was something I could do."
Myno cast a warm gaze up on the girl and smiled. "Someday, you will."
Slightly confused, yet filled with a strange hope, Chelandra said goodbye to Myno and made her way to the nursery. The nursery was far from the entrance for two reasons. First, it was the side most protected from the wind. New hatchlings were extremely susceptible to cold and needed to be protected at all costs. Second, an intruder looking to steal a new hatchling would have an awful time getting through the hatchery to the nursery without being seen, much less escaping with a newborn in hand.
Smaller than the main hatchery, the nursery was set up much the same. There were six miniature stalls on either side of the center aisle. Three stalls were currently in use and each was piled high with straw and blankets. Peeking inside the first stall, Lana saw a curious blue and white speckled face peer up at her. For as large as dragons became, she thought they remained awfully small for the first few months of life. She neglected to remember that it took nearly twenty years for a dragon to reach its full, adult size. Though she loved dragons, she found keeper classes to be horribly boring and preferred to get her learning from Mynora and Graol whenever possible.
After giving an affectionate hello to Edger, the blue and white bundle of energy, she headed to the second stall. The door to the stall was open and she stepped inside quietly. Her father was seated on the floor in the middle of a pile of blankets, a purple head cradled in his lap. The newborn looked mournfully up at Lana before closing his eyes once more. There was a deep gash across his left cheek and she noticed the bloodstained rags on the floor next to her father.
Among the rags, she saw an empty bottle. No wonder she needed to get more oil. Soothing oil was a powerful Gypsy drug that was illegal to use on dragons, but her parents and a few of the other keepers used it anyway. They kept it well hidden from people like Nilon, who felt dragons were vile beasts who should suffer as much as possible. Catching her stare, her father nodded to the bottle. Lana picked it up and stowed it safely away in a deep pocket before setting down the basket of food. Plopping down next to his knee, she began removing items and placing them on a towel she unfolded. Marilyn was a good friend of her parents and knew what her father liked for breakfast. She had sent over a fresh loaf of bread, some softened butter, her best homemade jam, a rasher of crispy bacon, and an uncooked leg of mutton.
Blood of the Dragon: An NA Epic Fantasy Page 1