Dragons of the Dawn Bringer: The Goddess Prophecies Fantasy Series Book 5

by Araya Evermore

  ‘Morhork?’ he said in shock. Everyone around him collapsed to the floor trembling in dragon fear. Even Asaph’s knees knocked together.

  ‘You and that sword are making a right bloody racket. Either you disarm or get some serious training,’ said the dragon.

  Asaph laughed a short sharp bark and waved his sword slightly, wondering what the dragon meant. Morhork seemed utterly irritated, which pleased Asaph because it made him more volatile—a good thing in their current situation.

  A harpy jumped on Asaph’s back, knocking him to the floor and winding him. Morhork reached in, plucked the harpy from his back and crushed the bird-woman between his claws in a spray of blood. The dragon tossed the body behind him, reached a giant talon over their heads and back into the chamber where he gripped a handful of temple guards and priestesses, crushed them and threw them behind him, too. The enemy turned and ran screaming.

  ‘Please help us out,’ Asaph said, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. ‘The children first.’

  Morhork stared at him a moment, then grimaced. He carefully scooped up a couple of trembling children and lifted them out of the hole he had created. One by one, and sometimes two, the dragon hoiked them out of the underground chamber.

  After setting Asaph free, the dragon lay its giant body down almost languidly, crushing ancient trees and exotic bushes as it almost filled the eastern half of the temple grounds. Most things were flattened under his great bulk and a quarter of the temple had been destroyed in his digging. Asaph wondered how people would be feeling about a huge dragon in the middle of their city. Thankfully, it was still dawn and the clouds above were turning a paler shade of pink.

  Asaph stared up at the dragon. ‘You saved us. You came for me. Why? How?’

  ‘I did not come for you! As I said, you and that sword made a right racket.’ Morhork picked up the flaccid body of a harpy and tossed it into his mouth, swallowing noisily. Asaph swallowed too, trying not to vomit.

  ‘But you were in the north, miles away. You couldn’t have reached here in time.’

  ‘Foolish half-breed,’ scowled Morhork. He seemed in a fouler mood than usual. ‘Dragons can travel through dimensions whenever we wish. But we don’t like it. It makes us tired, hungry and thus angry.’

  ‘So it’s really possible. You really can travel through dimensions like ravens.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Morhork, bringing his face close to Asaph, his eyes narrowing to the barest slits. ‘Like wizards and harpies and demons—all things with magic, though dragons are naturally masters of it. Idiot.’

  ‘Can you teach me?’ Asaph asked, ignoring the insult and awed by the prospect.

  Morhork snorted, covering Asaph in black soot and making him choke.

  The sound of shouting made Asaph turn to see the city guard spilling into the temple grounds. They were met with temple guards and the clang of swords rang out.

  ‘Men,’ Morhork said in disgust. ‘Why have I come to this awful place?’ He lifted up as if to go.

  ‘Wait. You still haven’t told me why you came,’ Asaph said.

  ‘When you picked up that sword, every bloody dragon in the world will have heard it. You’ve woken up every brood, you idiot. This is not their time. Now I’ve got to go and clean up your bloody mess again!’ Morhork bunched his muscles and leapt into the air, magic shimmering around him.

  ‘Thank you, Morhork.’ Asaph waved up at the dragon, trying to understand what he had said. ‘I owe you, we owe you, our lives. I’ll come and find you.’

  ‘Not if I can help it,’ growled the dragon. ‘It would do you well to remember that I was on Slevina’s side.’

  With a roar that probably had the whole city on their knees, Morhork shot towards the clouds and was gone.

  Asaph stared down at the great Sword of Binding in his hands, noticing how the blood red pommel sparkled and then dimmed as Morhork disappeared. It knew a dragon was near. A grin spread across his face.

  25

  Four Horsemen

  ISSA opened her eyes and tried to focus on her bedroom.

  The lampshades and curtains wobbled as if alive. Everything else was blurry and her head pounded horribly. With a moan, she managed to push herself up. Faint light trickled through the curtains so she assumed it must be dawn.

  She tried to piece together what had happened. She had talked incessantly about everything, then Domenon had kissed her, after which she remembered nothing. She touched her lips, her cheeks growing hot as she remembered. Too much wine…

  How had she got back into her bed? She quickly looked under the covers. She was dressed in her nightshirt—but who had done that? Her involuntary groan was cut off when, to her horror, realisation dawned. It can’t have been just wine. I was drugged!

  She reached for the water jug beside her bed and downed half. She had told him everything; about Freydel, her parents, Ayeth… Everything! Horror turned to fury. Feeling a little rehydrated she threw back the covers but the room still span. There came a knock on the door. A maid’s voice called out even as the handle turned and Kay entered.

  ‘It’s past dawn, Miss, and I’ve been informed by Master Domenon to wake you.’

  ‘What happened?’ Issa mumbled, through a mouth that felt full of wool.

  ‘Too much wine?’ Kay winked. ‘Master Wizard Domenon carried you here. You were fast asleep. And I put you to bed.’

  The maid threw back the curtains, blinding Issa with the light and making her head ache all the more. At least Domenon hadn’t put her to bed.

  ‘Do you need help dressing, Miss?’ asked the maid.

  ‘No, thank you,’ Issa said, biting back her fury. How dare he drug her!

  Kay curtsied and left. Issa dragged herself out of bed and pulled on her clothes, grinding her teeth.

  Through the maze of Castle Rebben’s hallways, she found Domenon’s library more by luck than anything else. Seeing the grim expression on her face, the maids fell out of her way as she stalked the corridors and staircases, her cheeks hot with anger and the remnants of wine and whatever else he had drugged her with. She did not respond to their ‘Good Morning’ greetings, in fact, she barely heard them speak. All she could think about was what Domenon had done to her. She stopped at his door and hammered her fists on it.

  No one answered.

  ‘Master Wizard Domenon is with the Queen, Miss Issalena,’ said a butler who was passing by the room carrying a tray of cups and a steaming teapot.

  ‘Right, thank you,’ said Issa tightly. The butler gave a slight bow and hurried on.

  Issa stalked back the way she had come, down the stairs, through the main hallway and towards the room where she had met the queen. Two pike holding guards stood outside the closed doors, faces emotionless as she approached.

  ‘Is Domenon in there?’ she growled.

  ‘He is, but asked not to be disturbed,’ said a guard politely.

  ‘Let me pass,’ Issa said, her scowl deepening.

  ‘No one may enter,’ said the other guard.

  ‘Let me pass,’ Issa repeated, the fury rising. She entered the Flow, not caring what Domenon had told her.

  Maybe one of the guards could sense magic for he shifted uncomfortably and his free hand went to his sword. She pulled the Flow to her in greater waves, knowing the Master Wizard would feel it.

  ‘If you don’t let me pass, I will explode open these doors!’ Issa shouted.

  Quickly, she lifted her hands, preparing the command and getting ready to disarm the guards. The air crackled with latent energy. She felt someone enter the Flow but maintained her grip on it, not letting anyone take it away. The guards crossed their pikes barring her passing and gripped their sword hilts menacingly.

  ‘I’m warning you!’ she shouted.

  The door opened and the Queen stood there regarding her coolly. Her black robes swathed over her body and even her head was adorned with a black lace cowl. Her pale face was stark and her lips pursed. The guards bowed but still lifted their spears ready
to protect the Queen.

  Issa did a double take; she had not expected the Queen to appear. Her grip on the Flow faltered and was suddenly ripped away from her, sending her reeling. She stepped back and eyed the velvet seats, wishing she could sit down but forced herself to remain standing.

  ‘If your gripe is with my wizard then it is actually with me,’ said Queen Thora. ‘I asked him to do whatever was necessary to ensure you were not working with the enemy and that what you told me was the truth.’

  ‘You authorised my drugging?’ Issa’s voice was high-pitched. The Queen herself had actioned all of this? Had allowed her guest to be abused?

  ‘Do not act so surprised. When you enter my house you play my game and abide by my rules. I am pleased to say I can now confidently trust you and will offer my entire army to your cause.’ The Queen’s lips tilted into the barest smile—the first Issa had seen.

  Issa opened and closed her mouth, the remnants of her rage battling with the good news. The queen trusted her fully. The army would be hers to command. Seeing the drop in threat the guards relaxed, but left their pikes crossed before Issa until a wave of Thora’s hand allowed them to stand down. She motioned for Issa to enter. She slowly stepped forwards.

  The room beyond was dark. No lamps were lit and the light of dawn had yet to reach over the trees to this part of the palace. Beside the throne stood Domenon, tall, draped in his purple wizard’s robe, a knowing smile forming on his lips. He showed none of the effects of the wine they had drunk, but then, he’d probably protected himself against them.

  ‘You drugged me,’ Issa growled, her anger rising once again. She turned to glare at Thora, unable to control her fury even in the cold face of royalty. ‘Did you tell him to kiss and ravage me too?’

  The Queen considered her, a strange gleam in her eyes. ‘I like a woman with temper and fearlessness.’ The gleam left her eyes and her smile dropped as she turned to regard the wizard.

  Domenon looked at the floor and, for the first time, Issa thought he looked guilty.

  ‘Is this true, Master Wizard?’ the Queen demanded coldly.

  ‘I couldn’t help but steal a kiss from such beauty, my Queen,’ he said, casting his eyes sheepishly downwards; but his remaining smile proved he didn’t really feel guilty at all.

  ‘Is that all that happened?’ barked the Queen, her eyes narrowing at the wizard.

  ‘All that happened? Isn’t that enough?’ Issa flared, her eyes wide. How dare he even touch her.

  ‘Indeed, my Queen.’ Domenon spoke in frank tones and rolled his shoulders back. ‘The Raven Queen is sensitive to Davonian wine and the truth serum. I misjudged how much she could take.’

  ‘Sensitive? Truth serum?’ squeaked Issa.

  The Queen laid a cool hand on her arm. Issa went to throw it off then checked herself—she was in the presence of royalty.

  ‘We live in dangerous times,’ said Thora, her voice worried and low as if someone unwanted was listening. ‘We have to be sure we are not letting the enemy into our house. Baelthrom’s spies are everywhere.’

  Issa couldn’t disagree, but she didn’t like the idea of being drugged. It took an enormous amount of effort to breathe deeply and control her anger. She needed the queen’s army and her trust more than anything right now.

  ‘My handsome wizard does not kiss just anybody,’ she winked at Issa.

  Issa felt her cheeks colour remembering the kiss. It had been a good kiss. Passionate and almost like a Dragon Lord. The thought made her pause.

  ‘Who is the blue dragon? I saw it again,’ Issa asked, arching her eyebrows at the wizard.

  Domenon’s face darkened and he frowned at the floor. The Queen looked at Issa quizzically.

  ‘What dragon?’ Domenon laughed. ‘Surely your boyfriend must know. Come on, we must get going.’ The wizard stood straight, pulled up the collar of his cloak and strode towards them.

  Issa wanted to press the point but her memory of last night was foggy. Had she made it up? Perhaps the drug had made her hallucinate? Domenon didn’t look at her as he breezed past them to the door. He had secrets. She silently resolved to get them out of him, one way or another.

  ‘This truth serum,’ Issa began, talking to Thora. ‘If I am to have soldiers and others close to me as my aides, I would very much like some of it to be sure I can trust them with my life. Perhaps you can give me some?’

  The queen pursed her lips and considered her. ‘I don’t see why not. I’ll have my butler put a pack in your carriage.’

  Issa nodded her thanks and bowed. ‘I will not forget your generosity, or for drugging me.’ She added the last under breath and gave a slight smile.

  The Queen smiled fully before turning away. ‘We shall get on well, you and I.’

  Issa nodded to herself, pleased the Queen felt that way, and followed Domenon’s cloak as it disappeared around a corner.

  Outside in the courtyard, she patted Duskar then climbed into the carriage, politely refusing the butler’s helping hand. Thinking about Thora, she listened to the clatter of hooves and wheels on cobbles and watched Castle Rebben disappear into the trees.

  Issa squinted through the grey fog sure that up ahead something moved within it. She could just make out a large and wavering dark patch. The air was close and damp and silent. The fog was so thick she couldn’t even see her feet and it was deathly cold. She shivered and hugged her shoulders. Not even her Dread Dragon armour could keep out the chill. Something snorted; it sounded vaguely like a horse, but not exactly. A horse-like head lifted in the fog but a billow of mist swiftly concealed it.

  ‘Who’s there?’ Her voice sounded eerie and loud.

  A heavy foot stamped, and then another, closer. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Something hunted for her presence in the fog just as she searched for it. Her hand dropped to her sword while the other rested on the raven talisman tucked in her belt. Another dark shape appeared beside the first and then two more. Four dark dense patches moving in the mist.

  The cold crept into her heart and she tiptoed back slowly, silently, afraid. The four shadows turned in her direction, then made their way towards her, their feet heavy, unstoppable, the only sound in the silence. Thud, thud. Her heart thumped in time with it

  Issa turned and ran, her feet scuffing loudly on stones she couldn’t see. Stumbling, she fell, dropping her sword in order to catch herself. It clattered loudly. She rolled to get up but the shadows were now before her. Her breath stuck in her throat and cold sweat trickled down her temples.

  She dragged herself back using her elbows and feet. The shadows followed, growing larger until they towered above her. She could barely breathe for the terror in her throat. They reminded her of the Light Eaters in the Dark Rift that lacked any form. Even as she thought it, their forms shifted. Long heads became denser and more horse-like in shape. On their backs were other shapes. Riders.

  The closest horse-shadow bent to sniff her, its snout materialising out of the fog. Hairless dark skin gleamed; nostrils billowed black soot like a dragon. Its mane was a crown of spines and horns that rattled and clacked as it tossed its head. Thick lips pulled back to reveal blackened fangs, not blunt teeth for eating grass. Its black eyes became swirling pits of nothingness that tried to pull her in. Issa tore her gaze away, her heart pounding.

  ‘What do you want,’ she gasped, hunting desperately for the Flow—but it was not there.

  ‘You,’ breathed its rider. Its voice was low and airy; a wind howling through a graveyard.

  The rider reached towards her, its huge, gauntleted hand materialised out of the fog and clenched. Her heart squeezed in her body and she gasped. A helmeted face formed and its empty eyes were like those of its horse; consuming, soul draining. The other horsemen reached towards her. Excruciating cold flooded every cell in her body and she screamed.

  The carriage jolted and swayed. Issa gasped, blinking in the lantern light and trying to decipher where she was.

  ‘Bad dreams?’ asked
Domenon who was seated opposite her. The wobbling lantern cast strange shadows on his face as he looked at her.

  Issa rubbed the raven mark on her chest and took a deep breath. Her face and neck were sweaty and her hands shook. They were on the way to South Reach and had briefly stopped for lunch. Sometime after she must have fallen asleep. Her dream had been so real. Baelthrom was hunting her, maybe even in the dream-state. Were the shadow horses sent by him? They were undead and they drank her soul. Real night mares stalking her. She didn’t feel safe even in her dreams.

  ‘I must apologise, the truth serum can give you nightmares straight after,’ said the wizard, closing the book he had been reading. ‘I would not have used it had my Queen not commanded me to do so. I don’t need potions to kiss women.’

  Issa laughed incredulously and sat up in her seat, struggling to shake the terror of the dream away, feeling hunted even now.

  ‘Unlike you to apologise,’ she said and peered out of the window through the dribbling rain into the pitch black. Every now and then a light would appear beyond the trees. ‘I guess you need them drunk and unarmed though.’

  She grinned when he snorted.

  ‘We are nearly there,’ he said, also peering out. ‘We’re on the coastal road just east of the port. It must be a couple of hours to midnight by now.’

  She’d been asleep all that time? It must be the dregs of the drug. She felt much better now, even if she was still shaken by the dream.

  ‘I sent a rider ahead to check our lodgings at a good tavern big enough to hold our entourage,’ said the wizard. ‘Perhaps here we can rendezvous with your Karalanths for it lies on the edge of South Reach woods. The southern barracks at the port are already being prepared for the Queen’s army. Some soldiers will already be there. The whole port town is quickly becoming a military base. How long it will take for Drumblodd’s army to reach us is anybody’s guess.’