by A. Wrighton
Defiance:
Dragonics & Runics Part I
A. Wrighton
Little Green Eyed Press
California
For Bugs.
I hope you love this story as much as I do…
That is, once you’re able to read it.
Copyright © 2013 by A. Wrighton
All rights reserved.
Produced by Little Green Eyed Press, California.
Defiance: Dragonics & Runics Part I, 2nd Edition is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
www.defythecouncil.com
www.awrighton.com
ISBN: 0615931545
ISBN-13: 978-0615931548
Cartography by Gabrielle Donathan / © Maise Designs
Cover Art by © Cover Your Dreams
Formatting by © Little Green Eyed Press
Other Design Elements by Traci Vermena & Anabel Martinez / © The Artist and The Rogue
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Preface Eastern Fyllian Ocean - Soleran Continental Coast
Dark Horse Commanders' Meeting Room - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
Chancellor's Office - Ryxia, Capitol Square, Aleria
The Creitalli Palace - Inner Ring, Knall City, Creitall
Rose Gardens of Creitalli Palace - Inner Ring, Knall City, Creitall
The Outer Ring - Knall City, Creitall
The Middle Ring - Knall City, Creitall
Council Dragonic Barracks - Ryxia, Capitol Square, Aleria
Northern Creipan Swamps - Knall Proper, Creitall
The Swamp Witch Cottage - Heart of the Creipan Swamps, Creitall
Dying Breed Alixa Canyon Ridge - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
The Halls - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
Guest Quarters - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
Library of the Moons - Monastery of the Sky, Northern Soleran Mountains
Map Room - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
The Underbelly - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
Commanders' Meeting Room - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
The Cynder Plateaus - Alixa Canyon, Northern Soleran Mountains
The Underbelly - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
Officers' Quarters - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
The Halls - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
Training Cavern - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
Sagefall Meadows - Anle, Brydella
The Underbelly - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
Commanders' Meeting Room - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
Great Hall Kitchen - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
The Halls - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
The Gray Stagg Inn - Northern Anrak, Caldenon
The Gray Stagg Inn - Northern Anrak, Caldenon
Myral Ridge - Southern Soleran Mountains, Solasti
Myral Ridge Cave - Southern Soleran Mountains, Solasti
Leosan Cavern - Southern Soleran Mountains, Solasti
Leosan Cavern - Southern Soleran Mountains, Solasti
Mount Lynae, Solasti - Southern Soleran Mountains
Leosan Cavern - Southern Soleran Mountains, Solasti
Solastian Palace Ruins - Mount Lynae, Solasti
Leosan Cavern - Southern Soleran Mountains, Solasti
Phoenix Rising Leosan Cavern - Southern Soleran Mountains, Solasti
The Swamp Witch Cottage - Heart of the Creipan Swamps, Creitall
Lixi Plateau - Southern Soleran Mountains, Solasti
Leosan Cavern - Southern Soleran Mountains, Solasti
Leosan Cavern - Southern Soleran Mountains, Solasti
Southern Deathwalker Cliffs - Creitall and Pyran Borders
Battlesky - Southern Deathwalker Cliffs, Creitall
Battleground - Southern Deathwalker Cliffs, Creitall
Battleground - Southern Deathwalker Cliffs, Creitall
High Commanders' Office - Dragonic Barracks, Ryxia, Capitol Square, Aleria
The Halls - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
Kalyna's Quarters - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
Creitalli Palace - Inner Ring, Knall City, Creitall
The Halls - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
The Great Hall - The Den, Northern Soleran Mountains
MANY THANKS
To my family and friends –
By allowing me to write and edit – instead of being a normal member of society – you have enabled this story to come to life and a little girl’s dream to come true.
To my dearest Beta readers and editor –
You deserve literary sainthood for dealing with my writing process and me on copious amounts of caffeine.
To the musicians of Muse and Rise Against –
Your music is powerful and inspiring and holds a great kinship with the stories of the world within these pages. Your lyrical insight made the characters and their actions come to life.
To the team of artists, voice over actors, designers, producers, and cinematographers who helped me on a small or large scale –
I would be lost without you. How you were able to crawl into the corners of my imagination and bring it to life so stunningly is beyond me.
To those who lived and died under similar circumstances –
You are a true beacon of humanity.
Never forgotten.
Never again.
Wind with you, always.
Listen to me now, little Child,
Brave Child.
Listen and remember what you have been told since birth:
There are those that will guard your hearth –
No matter the reason, cause, or fear.
Should you ever need help, the Shadows will be near.
One, two, three.
Light the way.
Mark your place and they will come.
Graced by darkness and strength, it will be done.
Soon, safe you will be – again in your bed.
So, look to the falling first moon and lift your head.
Eyes to the sky, Child,
Brave child.
‘Ere they ride.
EASTERN FYLLIAN OCEAN
SOLERAN CONTINENTAL COAST
It was too easy.
The sunset glowed the colors of a Fire Dragon’s breath. The oranges and reds leapt across the waves spilling gold and copper over the waters. Streaks of deep purple came from the horizon where two moons peeked. The four-mast vessel steered towards the growing darkness; its sails billowed in the breeze, jingling the crystal-adorned rigging. The ship sparkled violently on the salty waves.
As the ship pushed on into the black, the whinny of a fiddle stirred the air and was soon joined by wind and string instruments. The ship roared with celebratory glee as guests paired off in a dance around the loving couple in green and white. Princess Carissa stood tall and devastatingly beautiful, a warm smile of serene happiness on her lips. Ribbon and lace woven into her hair beneath her emerald circlet made her dreamlike, ethereal. Stunning. Her Prince stood beside her, his dark eyes alight with her reflection.
<
br /> They could not have asked for better landing directions.
The Prince did not answer Carissa when she asked him to dance. His eyes remained in the sails where, for a heartbeat, the approaching horizon shivered with lifelike darkness. He turned, dismissing it as an odd gust of wind, and opened his mouth to reply to his wife. No sound came out.
His hand jerked her back to his side. Had the black leather glove not been clenched over his mouth, he would have told her to run – to jump into the embrace of the sea and swim far away. Had it not been for the guests' panic, Carissa would have made it to the railing. She could have been free.
More black-leathered hands grabbed Carissa and dragged her back to her Prince's side. She struggled, kicking and squirming, only stopping when her husband’s hand grasped onto her forearm. His eyes were wide and white. Lost. Carissa heard herself sob when the strength left his hands.
The tallest assailant pulled his broadsword out of the Prince. He stared at the red-tinted blade thoughtfully before wiping it along his black trousers. He surveyed the deck, where the guests lay lifeless at his feet. On his approach to Carissa, he gingerly stepped over the blood forging its way to the sea.
He exhaled, a gravel of remorse to his breath. He was grateful they had made quick work of the guests. He had never done well with screaming or begging. With a swirl of his cloak, he reached Carissa’s side and watched the wide-eyed Princess search for whatever was causing the sails to billow unnaturally. Billow, as if they had lives of their own. Heartbeats and breaths.
Carissa winced. “Dragons,” she whispered.
The Dark Rider’s lips twisted into a smile. He gestured around the still deck. "That leaves you, your Radiance.”
Carissa’s soft teal eyes latched onto the man. He was darkness. She shook her head until pins came loose, freeing strawberry curls to dangle haplessly. She wanted desperately to see his face, but he was all shadow. Black.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“You know.”
Carissa shook her head slowly. “You’re not Council Dragonics.”
His grin grew wider. “Not even close.”
"Why?"
He laughed. "I could ask you the same thing Princess, but I lack patience. I am looking for a Runic."
"They're dead. All of them. The Collection—"
He laughed again and walked closer. Carissa’s features were aging gently, but she remained a deeply beautiful woman, which made his task a pity. He withdrew a small strip of parchment and pinned it to her mint green bodice. His voice soft and kind. "She'd be odd looking and seem out of place. She'd have been hidden."
Carissa softened at his paternal tone, but trembled at his closeness. Still clutching her dead husband’s hand, Carissa fought with her memory to remember something. Anything. She shut her eyes. “There was a girl. When I was younger… I… I don’t…. She did not look like one of us… Father hid her from us because Mother was so upset. We used to play in the rose garden until sunset…”
He stepped back to straighten the parchment. "That's a good girl,” he said.
Carissa’s eyes fluttered open. She gasped at the depth of the shadows filling his form despite being a breath from her face. He looked like a piece of the night – a starless, soulless creature of darkness. And, his eyes were dwelling on the parchment.
Carissa eyed the script on the parchment and dropped her husband’s hand. She clutched the Dark Rider’s forearm. "Please don’t... Let me go.”
He tapped the parchment twice. "Soon,” he said straightening her into the gloved hands of another Dark Rider.
Before Carissa could offer any other sound of protest, the sound of metal against scabbard filled the air.
“Soon, sweet girl.”
DARK HORSE
“In the blackest of nights and darkest of days
we will find and save you…”
COMMANDERS’ MEETING ROOM
THE DEN, NORTHERN SOLERAN MOUNTAINS
Alaister Paine sat in the corner in a worn chair, legs wide, and arms leaning against his thighs. The warmth of the room made it a favorite place to sit and think, especially as winter crept into the cave system. The fireplace carved into the southern wall held captive flames that danced as they warmed and lit the entire cavern.
His boots were as worn as the bindings of the old logbook in his hand. His boots had seen much, and although his age did not delineate that, his eyes did. The boots were worn, stretched taut against his calves. They had once been a warm honey sort of color, but now were just a muddied mess of brown and death. Alaister gripped the frayed leather logbook and read. Save for the flickering of the flames, the only sound was the flipping of aging parchment pages.
Back and forth. Again.
It did not make sense.
It was not possible.
He could not have possibly missed it for that long.
They had been waiting for something like this since their founding. Since their inception, the Rogues had carried The Cause as dutifully as they could, but their purpose never had a driving force. A spark. Until now, Alaister was sure that the world he had grown up to know would be the world of future generations. Despite his faith in The Prophecy and The Cause, Alaister had begun to doubt the chance of change occurring in his lifetime.
His gray-blue eyes looked at the worn logbook again.
Alaister had found more than a spark. It was lit kindling. And, it had been in the encoded pages since before he could walk. Twenty-five cycles it had waited in the Rogues’ Founder’s – Kai Paine’s logbooks. His father’s logbooks. Alaister ground his teeth at the insensitivity of his father to not tell him, let alone not tell him, how to decode the logs for insight into how he should and could lead the Rogues. Alaister cracked a soft smile. Kai Paine had never been one for easy lessons and his judgments were never without foresight.
There had to have been a reason to it all – an explanation – but it did not sit right. Alaister sighed and flipped back and forth once more. It had been there all along. His stomach lolled. This was what he had been waiting for. What they had been waiting for. The Council had finally made a fatal mistake – a mistake they did not even realize.
It was time.
Alaister stood to his full height and ran a hand through his thick mass of black hair. Leaning against the fireplace, he stared at his father’s old chair and admired the longevity of their family crest on the backing. Claws of a Dragon – sharp and ready, holding fast to a sword – were still discernable, though the pattern behind it had long since been lost to the washed out red fabric.
He laughed and straightened. He had to tell his men. Today would be a glorious day.
Alaister strode to the heavy curtains of the cavern opening and nearly smacked into Vylain. Though shorter, the lanky brown-haired man had a staggering strength about him. His green eyes flickered with excitement as he ushered Alaister back into the room and quickly checked the curtain.
“What is it?” Alaister asked.
“On patrol....” He paused and nodded towards the chairs. “Please sit, Commander.”
Nothing good came from news that required sitting, and Alaister reluctantly receded to his chair at the western side of the long plank table.
Vylain sighed, straightened his yellow rolled cuffs, and cracked his neck. He faltered at how to start – where to begin. He knew Alaister would not be patient long, and he had learned long ago that the best method was to just get to the point. “Princess Carissa is dead,” Vylain said.
“What?” Alaister blinked.
Vylain exhaled. “And the Prince of Pyran.”
Alaister leaned forward. “When?”
“I don’t know. We flew a pattern over their wedding ship and it was dark. No candles. No music. It smelled like… It was a massacre. We found a note pinned to the Princess. I was able to copy it before we heard the Council Dragonics incoming.”
“Did they see you?”
“No, sir.”
Alaister took the smal
l scrap of parchment from Vylain’s gloved hand. He read the strange text, looked to Vylain, and then looked at the logbook on his father’s chair.
“Gavasti…”
“Sir?”
“Get the others.”
“Gage is already on it.”
Nodding, Alaister offered a smile to his Wing Second. “Sit then. You’ve done well, Vylain.”
Vylain bowed his head and took a seat two chairs down from Alaister on the northern, long side of the table. Alaister watched Vylain stare into the fire calmly and was grateful for his constant ability to maintain composure. It was the reason Vylain had become his Wing Second, and it was because of his integrity that Alaister trusted his gut instinct and reactions over most others’ instincts.
Vylain’s uneasiness meant that the massacre was worse than words could describe. Alaister could see it in Vylain’s shifting green eyes and clenched hands. Who was capable of committing such an act was another matter – a matter neither had an answer to. Alaister followed Vylain’s gaze to the gold rug and lost himself in the intricate pattern, grateful for their mutual silence. It allowed a man to think. The urgency of the note built up inside of him and fused with his discovery in the logbook.
The Prophecy was real.
Alaister stood to settle his stomach. He wandered to the fireplace and straightened his leather vest over his gray shirt. He could not remember if he had fallen asleep looking at the logbook long enough to consider it a true sleep and wished that he had. They would need all the energy they could muster. His eyes wandered to the pennants above the fireplace and lingered on the hand-altered Original Rogue Dragonics banner.
The banner would fly again – sooner now than ever before. Things would be brought to balance – people to equality and happiness. There would be no more hiding in caves, no more being outlaws.