Into a Dragon's Soul: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Chronicles of the Four Book 3)

by Marissa Farrar

  “That’s them,” Orergon called.

  She glanced back at him, his long, black hair streaming back in the wind, and gave him a grateful smile.

  The sky had begun to lighten, the moon dropping in the sky to give way to a sun that had not yet risen. They had timed their arrival right. She wanted the army to see the majesty of the dragon.

  And see him, they did.

  Dela sat up taller as the dragon flew along the length of the army camp. People had begun to rise, and as they woke, they were faced with the sight of a gigantic dragon soaring above them, its belly exposed, the underside of its wings stretched from one side of the Southern Pass to the other. She imagined people woke pretty quickly after that, kicking their neighbor awake and pointing up at the sky. It must have been like waking from one dream and finding yourself right in the middle of a nightmare.

  She wanted to give the human army enough time to wake without giving them enough time to prepare themselves for battle. They flew across the vast expanse of canvas and campfires, inhaling the scent of burning wood, and then the dragon swept back around. With every passing second, the sky grew lighter still, so she was able to make out the details of the army below. Some had bows and arrows, but their arrows wouldn’t penetrate the dragon’s scales and would only glance off harmlessly if they tried to fire them.

  They circled back around. Dela knew where they wanted to set down—on the side leading toward the Norcs and the Southern Trough rather than the side leading back to the eastern coast. Dela’s head might be filled with dreams of peace and each of their races intermingled, but before any of that could happen, she had smaller battles to face. Her main goal right now was simply to prevent the humans from attempting to slaughter the Norcs when they’d done nothing to deserve it, and to do that, she needed to place herself and her dragon between the human army and the Norcs’ homeland of the Southern Trough.

  Gasps and yells of shock and fear met her ears as the dragon dropped into the Southern Pass, his wingspan so large, the tips of his leathery wings brushed either side of the cliff faces. Some men ran, scrambling backward in fear, while others stood, eyes wide as saucers, their mouths wide open as they gaped. Horses whinnied and rose up on hind legs, whites of eyes showing and ears flattened back on their head. The horses were tethered, or they’d have run as well.

  Most of the men had pushed themselves backward, trying to create as much space as possible between themselves and the dragon. They brandished swords that would be no use against such a beast.

  But a couple of men stepped forward, and Dela narrowed her eyes, flicking through her memories to find their names. She knew them both. One was a man in his thirties with a thick beard of black, the other fair-headed, his beard trimmed short. The second man was younger, too, his jaw square and shoulders broad. A third stood behind them, a shorter man with a brow that slotted out above his deep-set green eyes. Like the other men, he was also unshaven. Weeks on the road meant none of them had taken much time for personal care. Not that she was one to judge. She didn’t look much better herself.

  Dela climbed from the dragon’s back with as much grace as she could manage. Orergon offered his hand, but she refused it. She didn’t want the humans to think she needed a man’s help to do anything. The dragon was different. He was a part of who she was. They came as a package. You couldn’t have a Dragonsayer without a dragon.

  She watched the faces of the men leading the army. At first, their expressions were filled with fear and wonder, focused on the dragon rather than the girl climbing from his back, more caught up in the possibility that the dragon could breathe fire and turn them all to ash within seconds than giving any thought as to why a young, human woman was riding on his back. But then, as the immediate sense of danger faded, they took a closer look at the woman who’d accompanied the beast, and she saw flickers of recognition, especially in the face of the younger man, Seth Elderstein. Yes, that was his name. She knew the others as well. They made up parts of King Crowmere’s City Guard.

  The man with the thick black beard stepped forward. “What is this? Who are you, and why are you blocking our way with this beast?”

  Though he stood tall with his chin raised, she didn’t miss the tremor in his voice. A part of her admired him, though—admired each of the men who hadn’t simply turned and fled. That took some guts when faced with a creature who could disintegrate them in seconds.

  “Don’t you recognize me, Aaron O’Quinn?” Dela called back.

  His dark eyes narrowed. “I … I’m … Should I?” he finished in the end.

  “My name is Dela Stonebridge, and I am the last Dragonsayer.”

  Her words made him forget his fear for the moment. “There are no Dragonsayers. Haven’t been for more than a hundred years.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Just as there haven’t been any dragons, you mean?” The creature behind her snorted a plume of white smoke from his nostrils as though laughing in mirth along with her.

  “I’m from your city of Anthoinia. Perhaps that’s why you recognize me.”

  The younger man beside him straightened his shoulders. “I recognize you. You’re Ridley Stonebridge’s sister.”

  “That’s right, Seth Elderstein. I recognize you, too.”

  Seth frowned. “You’re no Dragonsayer. You’re just a girl.”

  “I was, once upon a time, that’s true. Just as some kings are mere boys when they’re first born. I didn’t choose this, but as you can see, I have the proof of what I am right here, behind me.”

  None of them could argue with the presence of the dragon.

  “What do you want?” Aaron O’Quinn asked.

  “I want you to turn around. To not continue on this mission. The other races haven’t done anything wrong. The Norcs are waiting for you now, and they’ll be sure to take plenty of you down with them if you try to attack.”

  His lips pressed together, so thin they almost disappeared. “You warned the Norcs we were on our way? That’s treason to your king and people!”

  “All the people of Xantearos are my people—human or otherwise—and I do not recognize King Crowmere as my king.”

  “Traitor!”

  She shrugged. “If that’s what it makes me, then so be it. It’s only a name. There are far more important things at stake here than a loyalty to someone who’s using you for their own selfish gains.”

  O’Quinn scowled, but his gaze flicked to the dragon behind her, and she could see he was trying to hide his nerves. “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t want for people to fight. I don’t want for everyone to die. You don’t have to follow a king’s orders simply because he is a king. I’m proposing that you follow me now. Cast aside all the rules of the Treaty—it’s broken now, anyway—and start to forge your own way.”

  Seth spoke up. “King Crowmere is our ruler. We have to follow him.”

  “No, you don’t. The only reason we’ve had the Treaty is because humans want to control the other races, and they’ve had the resources to be able to do so. But things have changed now. Follow me instead, and I’ll show you a different way of life.”

  O’Quinn snorted. “You? You’re just a girl.”

  Dela cocked her head. “Are we going to have to go through this again?”

  His gaze flicked over her shoulder. “Okay, a Dragonsayer, but what do you think is going to change?”

  “I will break down the walls of Anthoinia, so you will be free to live wherever you wish in Xantearos. Your family members and friends will no longer be forced to become one of the Chosen if their names are called, and if people decide they wish to leave, they may do so freely, without fearing that they will be hung in the market square.”

  A crowd of people had gathered behind the men of the City Guard, listening to what was being said.

  “The Norcs are brutes,” shouted out the shorter man with the heavy brow. She thought his name was Joe Randolf. “They’ll come to Anthoinia to steal from us and rape our wome
n!”

  A murmur of discontent rose up from the crowd gathered behind them.

  “No, they’re not, and they won’t,” she called out, raising her voice so others could hear. “They have their own women, and most wouldn’t even be interested in the way a human woman looks.”

  She was aware of Warsgra’s eyes on her back, how he had certainly been interested in how she looked when they’d been back in the Seer’s cave.

  “The Elvish will use their magic against us,” another cried.

  She lifted both hands. “To achieve what end? They’re a small population, and they outlive us by hundreds of years. Most will be more than happy to remain in the Inverlands, but they should be allowed to do what comes naturally to them. Being repressed in exchange for peace isn’t peace at all.”

  “And the Moerians are wild men. How are we supposed to negotiate with men like that?”

  “They’re not wild. They’re kind and understanding. Plus, it’s unlikely the Moerians will ever want to come to Anthoinia for anything more than trade. They love the open spaces of the Vast Plains, and with the Treaty no more, they’ll be able to travel farther than ever before. We’ll enrich our societies with new experiences and people, with different foods, and clothing.” She was warming to her topic, becoming more enthusiastic as she spoke. “Imagine a world where you’re free to go wherever you wish at any time, a world where you’re no longer starving because your food is being traded for jewels and gold. Imagine no longer having the fear that it will be your daughter, or wife, or best friend whose name will be called for the Choosing and who you may then never see again.”

  She had them. She could feel it. Eyes were trained on her, mouths agape in awe.

  “I’m not saying it will be easy. Change is always hard, but it will be worth it. King Crowmere will not allow his castle or the city to fall so easily, but you are his fighting men, and he has left himself with little protection in the city.”

  “We’ll be forced to fight against our own people,” someone else called out.

  Dela shook her head. “Not if they surrender.”

  O’Quinn snorted. “You think the king will surrender? He’s more likely to order us all hanged.”

  “There are too many of us for the king to hang us all. Plus, you won’t be the only ones fighting. I’ll be asking each of the races to put together their strongest men to stand beside you all. And I’ll be there, too, with the dragon.”

  The men glanced at one another. “We’ll be fighting side by side with other races.”

  “Yes, if they’ll accept. This will be our new world. Our new way of life. We must learn to unite for one common cause. Our freedom.”

  “And if we refuse?”

  “Don’t refuse,” she warned him.

  He pulled his sword. “I can’t do that.”

  “I’m warning you, O’Quinn. Don’t do this.”

  A number of other men had also stepped forward, while a few more—including the younger man she recognized as Seth Elderstein—moved back. Those who’d stepped forward also drew their swords, a mixture of anger and fear on their faces. They must have realized what they were doing. Attempting to take on a dragon was suicide, but perhaps they thought betraying their king would get them killed eventually anyway. At least this way they’d die with their honor intact, even if that same honor was misplaced.

  Dela felt sick at what she knew was going to happen next. She could see events unfolding before her in startling clarity in her head, as though they had already happened, and she was recalling instead of predicting them. Her natural instinct was to look for another way, but there wasn’t one. She needed to show to those who remained that she was a leader—and one to be feared as well as loved, she hoped—and she couldn’t allow men to stand against her and what she was striving for. She briefly considered telling them to turn around and go back to King Crowmere and give him her warning, but she shook the thought away. Her heart wanted to be lenient, but her head knew she couldn’t be.

  Behind her, Orergon, Warsgra, and Vehel closed in. Warsgra brandished his axe, while Vehel had his magic. Orergon also had access to a magic of his own now.

  But it wasn’t the three men who the army was focusing on now.

  The dragon rose up, his tail whipping across the ground like an angry cat. He had picked up on Dela’s alarm and was responding to it. Trouble was, dragons only had one way of dealing with a problem, and the outcome of that action was death.

  The human men before her reared back in terror as the dragon rose to his full height. She could tell him to stop, the words trembling on the tip of her tongue, and yet she knew she couldn’t.

  O’Quinn raised his sword and, with a battle cry that the men supporting him picked up and echoed, charged.

  He didn’t get far.

  The dragon stepped forward, making sure Dela and the others were behind his feet, and he stretched his long neck and opened his mouth. A stream of flames, red, orange, and yellow, streamed from its widened jaws, smoke billowing from the corners of its mouth.

  The men didn’t stand a chance. Dragon fire hit them, engulfing their bodies and swords. Their screams sent a shudder down Dela’s spine, so violent she had no choice but to allow it to work its way through her. The stink of meat burning filled the air, and she thought it would be a while before she’d be able to eat without her stomach turning. She desperately wanted to turn away from the sight of the flailing men, to put her hands over her ears and block out the sound of their screams, but she had to face the reality of what her vision for the future of Xantearos would entail.

  It felt like forever, when, in fact, only a matter of seconds had passed, but eventually the burning men fell to the ground. They twitched and jerked, and then fell still. The air around them grew deathly silent, though Dela thought she would never forget the sound of those screams.

  The army beyond looked around nervously, perhaps wondering if they would be next.

  Dela stepped forward, moving past the smoking bodies to stand before them.

  “I’m not going to threaten you and force you to join me,” she called out to them all, the acoustics of the Southern Pass carrying her voice, just as it had carried the men’s screams only moments before. “You are all free men. If you choose to attack me, then yes, I will defend myself, but I’ll not force you to follow me. If you do come with me, however, I can promise you that I will do everything within my power to ensure you live better lives. Under my rule, I won’t force you to live within the walls of Anthoinia. You may take your families and farm any part of our lands to keep yourselves fed. And I certainly won’t be calling your wives or daughters or sisters up to take part in the Choosing, or anything like it. Those days are gone. The Southern Pass is a dangerous place, and, if you follow me now, and join the Norcs at the Southern Trough instead of fighting them, we’ll be taking the first big step in creating a new world for our families to live in.” She looked around, trying to judge their reactions. She spotted a few nodding heads, nervous but hopeful. “If you go back to Anthoinia now,” she continued, “you’ll have to face the wrath of King Crowmere. If you come with me, I’ll do everything I can to protect you. I’m not going to say it will be easy—there will certainly be challenges along the way—but it will be worth it in the end.”

  She just hoped she was making them a promise she could keep. The expanse of what she was trying to achieve stretched out ahead of her, threatening to overwhelm her if she thought about it too deeply. But she couldn’t ignore it either. A chain of events had been set off the day she’d been sent to the north with the others, perhaps even before then, when she’d been picked for the Choosing, and she couldn’t undo everything that had been done. The only way was forward.

  Broad-shouldered, fair-haired Seth stepped forward, and several of his men moved with him. She stiffened, thinking they might want revenge for what her dragon had done to the other men, but instead he nodded.

  “Very well, Dela Stonebridge, the Dragonsayer,” Seth sai
d, his voice also raised so others could hear. “Take us to the Norcs, but you must promise our safety. If they try to fight us, then we will fight back.”

  She looked into his handsome face, and a small surge of hope rose inside her. “They won’t fight,” she told him, glancing back at Warsgra, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Good. How much farther do we have to march?”

  “Another day. You should reach the Southern Trough by nightfall.”

  She remembered the other creatures she’d seen, the ones that had risen from the crevasse the earth tremors had created. “The Great Dividing Range and the Southern Pass is full of dangers, however. I will guarantee your safety from the other races, but you must still stay alert for troubles along the way. It was because we were faced with the Long White Cloud that the Treaty was broken in the first place.”

  Seth nodded. “I understand.”

  “These are my right hand men,” she introduced, turning her attention to the men who’d been by her side through everything. Orergon was closest to her. “This is Orergon Ortiz of the Moerians.” Orergon raised his palm in greeting, and Seth nodded in return. “And this is Warsgra Tuskeye of the Norcs.” The two men shook hands. “And finally, this is Vehel Dawngleam, prince of the Elvish.”

  “The one who broke the Treaty,” Seth said, an expression she couldn’t quite read crossing his face. “I’m not sure if I should be angry or grateful.”

  Vehel spoke up, not appearing intimidated, despite the human man being physically bigger than him, and with an entire army behind him. “I guess that will depend on how many of us are still alive when this is all over.”

  A grin broke across Seth’s face. “I guess it will.”

  Dela allowed herself to breathe again.

  Chapter 7

  Dela

  They mounted the dragon once more, taking up position on the creature’s back. She didn’t yet trust the human army not to turn and head back to Anthoinia, so she wanted to stay close to make sure nothing unexpected happened. Not all of the soldiers joined the march, some sneaking away, perhaps to run back to the king, but she let them go. She wanted men who chose to be at her side, not those who felt forced. Besides, the few who ran would be lucky to make it back to the city alive. The more sensible ones understood their chance of survival was far greater in numbers.