Cold Hearted Son of a Witch: 2016 Modernized Format Edition (Dragoneers Saga)

by M. R. Mathias

  Zahrellion stepped out of the daylight into the shadow and came face to face with the superior of her Order. She was so dizzy. Lanxe didn’t recognize her immediately. But she knew who he was.

  He blasted at her with his powerful Dou. His attack hit her square in her chest and sizzled her to the core, but the sensation died the instant she felt it. She blinked the pain away as she crumpled and saw Lanxe disappear. He was clutching the blood pouring out of his head where Aikira had just hacked away a slice of scalp with her short sword.

  The two female Dragoneers met eyes, and then they heard Jenka swearing as the buzzing vibration around them grew in intensity until the whole structure of the crater was quaking and shaking.

  Aikira pulled Zahrellion to her feet, then sprinted deeper into the earth after the sound of Jenka’s voice. Zahrellion stumbled, but came after her, fighting her dizziness, and still feeling the raw burn of Lanxe’s Dou. A Sarax stepped in front of her, but Golden, with several long gashes running down her neck, reached out of nowhere and snapped its face into her jaws and shook it like a dog shakes a rat. Luckily its body came apart before it could discharge a defensive shock.

  Zah eased past the thrashing alien. She started running toward the others when she saw the star ship’s opening widen, spilling even more Sarax into the shaft in front of Jenka.

  Aikira was using her wizard magic by sending hot, zooming pulses at the creatures. Jenka was standing over Rikky wielding his oversized sword with furious accuracy, but they were about to be overrun. Even the hot streaks of emerald energy blasting forth weren’t enough to slow the creatures down. Six of the Sarax moved to overtake them. Zahrellion came to a stop a few feet behind Aikira’s shielding and started writing in the sky. In that moment she knew she could only love Jenka. Marcherion was a handsome fancy, but Jenka was her hero. He was standing there in the face of certain overwhelming odds, fighting for the sole purpose of protecting Rikky. He was the naïve boy who’d ridden a horse into a massive dragon’s maw trying to save her. He was the one who swallowed his tongue in such an endearing manner every time he wanted to say he loved her. He was the one.

  Zahrellion’s desire to save Jenka and Rikky fortified the strength of her spell. She threw her hand forth and the warbling yellow flow that leapt away from it crackled and hummed in competition with the Sarax’s vile noise. Several of them were carried, as if by a gargantuan pounding fist, into the star ship and mashed there by the force. They slumped before the opening, tripping the next creature exiting the craft. Aikira blasted the only other Sarax still lingering near the star ship off of its feet. Another battle for exiting position ensued as the tripped alien rose and attacked the creature trying to climb over it.

  Jenka found the reprieve he needed to leave Rikky and pull the big teardrop from his unconscious dragon’s mouth. He was anguished after seeing the scales and skin that had been smashed away from Jade’s head. He looked up just in time to see the knot of Sarax swell outward as the breach was widened. Aikira and Zahrellion were overrun in a mad dash as the Sarax fled the power that was suddenly welling inside of Jenka.

  The raw power of so much Dour magic blasting through his veins might have consumed any of the other Dragoneers, but Jenka’s own teardrop had been as powerful before Mysterian used it to save Mainsted from Gravelbone’s poison. He raged for the friends he loved so much, but he relished the familiar taste of magic tingling on his tongue. He held Crimzon’s teardrop palmed in his left hand and raised his not so heavy sword with his right. With a primal scream, he let the Dour magic from one tear amplify the power of the other. Then he did what Crimzon had told Rikky to do. He let the power flow right through him.

  The massive surging blast that exploded from Jenka’s blade tip was like forcing the power of a dozen tempests through a tube and directing it all at one place. The Dou spewing forth coated the breach, engulfing several of the still struggling Sarax. The opening was almost instantly sealed over and the whole exposed area of the ship was cooked into a fresh hard milky encasement.

  A Sarax that was trying to flee over the girls was suddenly shoved into the air until it hit the rock above in a crunching impact. It fell a few feet away from where Zahrellion was sitting.

  Slowly, the flow of power coming from Jenka exhausted and he fell into a crumpled heap beside Rikky. Around them everything went still, save for the shadowy movement of the enraged Sarax still confined behind the new encasement, and the light raspy sound of Crimzon drawing breath.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Jenka woke to the loud clopping of Rikky’s newest peg-leg as it thumped on the tiled floor of the tower apartment. He turned to see that Zahrellion was with him. The strong smell of wood smoke was prevalent in the crisp air, but her sweet scent found his nose as it always did. He forced the blankness away from his mind and sat up far too quickly.

  “Jade?” was his first concern.

  Yesss, his dragon hissed into his mind. I’m aboves youss, my friend.

  The ethereal works again? he asked as things started coming back to him.

  “Only here, at our castle,” Zahrellion answered. Her smile, as she slid her fingers lovingly through his hair, threatened to melt the icy stuff that had coated his heart in that crater. He saw that the triangle on her head was the color of blond wood now, but said nothing.

  “Where are the others?” he asked. He tried not to enjoy the touch of Zahrellion's fingers, but it was useless.

  “Marcherion is guarding the star ship,” Rikky answered. “I have to take his place soon. He’s a vigilant bastard.”

  “You’ve been tending Jenka, Rikky,” Zahrellion scolded. “Let Aikira and me split your watch again.”

  “No,” Rikky said flatly. “I can handle my duty.”

  “That’s not the point, Rikky Camille,” Aikira scolded as she stepped into Jenka’s room. “We don’t want anything to happen to our best healer.”

  “You said fastest flyer last time,” Rikky smiled. “Both are correct, but Jenka’s awake now. March needs a break. I’m going, so deal with it.” He patted Jenka’s shoulder, and then decided that it wasn’t enough. He reached down and hugged his friend tightly for a beat. Then he turned and left with deep thumping strides.

  “How long have I—?”

  “Almost a full turn of the moon,” Zahrellion said. “Winter is upon us.”

  “And the Sarax?”

  “Those that broke free have spread across the land. Only one has returned to the star ship and Blaze scorched it to a husk,” explained Zahrellion.

  “What of the rangers and Lem?”

  “Holed up in that keep for the winter,” Aikira told him. “That fool druidon Lanxe led an attack of his enslaved vermin on them just days ago. The weather ended most of them before they got there. From what I could tell when I flew over, the rangers stayed in the keep and watched them freeze. I bet my favorite boots Lanxe marches on Richard’s kingdom in the spring, but there’s naught to worry about for the moment, Jenk. You fortified the encasement well. Rest. The Dour nearly sapped the life out of you.” She scratched at her nose and gave Zahrellion a look. Her big eyes were liquid, and the gap between her front teeth was prominently beautiful when she smiled. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have chores.” She shook her head as if the two of them were hopeless, then squeezed Jenka’s hand and left the room.

  Jenka started to ask another question, but Zahrellion leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips.

  “What was that for?” he smarted and pulled away in confusion. “Is Marcherion not enough for you?”

  Zahrellion nearly stood and stalked away, but somehow she managed to keep from it. She clenched and unclenched her fist while fighting the urge to throttle him. It never failed that he always found the absolute stupidest things to say to her. She knew Jenka was dense, and knowing that she knew, she decided she had to have better control of the way he sometimes irked her. She had to keep from letting his stupidity drive her away.

  “He just isn’t you, Jenka.�
�� She kissed him again, first on the lips, then on the nose.

  “We’re Dragoneers, Zahrellion,” Jenka argued, but only halfheartedly. Her smell, and the huskiness of her voice was melting his resistance.

  “We can be lovers and Dragoneers,” she said. “Crimzon said so. Either way, I’ll always love you.”

  Jenka sighed and tried to untwist his thoughts, but it was no use. Before he could stop himself he started to respond.

  “Shhhhh,” Zahrellion stopped his words with a fingertip on his lips.

  “I know you do, Jenka,” she smiled deeply. “I’ve known it all along.”

  Praise for The Sword and the Dragon

  (The Wardstone Trilogy Book One)

  Overall The Sword and the Dragon (A+) is an impressive debut - a traditional fantasy that manages to be fresh. It succeeds in offering a complete reading experience. - Fantasy Book Critic

  This is an epic fantasy, and I do mean epic… A fat fantasy, the kind you would expect from a Jordan or Tad Williams. Overall, I recommend this book to anyone wanting a solid, traditional fantasy read. - B. V. Larson Bestselling author of MECH

  This book is a monster and not just in size. M. R. Mathias has managed to do something extremely difficult in the fantasy genre - create something new and unique. Well written and compelling it literally turns the pages itself. I would compare this to Lord of the Rings except that LOTR couldn't hold my interest like this book. Mathias' characters are rich and well developed, the story flows easily and the reader is lost in the incredible world that's been created.

  If you like fantasy then you will absolutely love this book. I cannot wait for the sequel. -Tracey Alley author of The Witch Wars trilogy

  Like any good epic novel, the author creates an entire world slowly and carefully through the actions of its characters. I was drawn in, and still don't want to let go! - Christopher Dyer

  An Indie treat. I'm looking forward to see what M.R. Mathias writes next. - Vaughn Heppner author of The Outlaw Knight, Star Soldier, and Bio Weapon

  Fans of Tolkien, and C.S. Lewis, will find much to enjoy in M.R. Mathias’ debut fantasy novel, The Sword and the Dragon (Book 1 of a trilogy). Starting with a mountain-side harvest of hawk eggs, the reader is then taken on an epic adventure through the Mainland Kingdom, encountering on the trek clansmen, a Lion Lord, lizards, serpents, elves, witches, a giant called Borg, a giantess called Berda, a bald-headed wizard called Pael, monsters and magic, kings and queens, lords and ladies, and many others, along with a great mix of campfire legends, swords and sorcery, and exhilarating battles.

  This is a big book on a grand scale, but don’t let the fact that it’s a long story put you off. It is also a fast read with a steady flow throughout. Read this book, take up your sword and get ready for a hugely enjoyably adventure. - John Walker author of Wrath and Remembrance, Hitting Back, God’s Soldiers, Blood and Water

  ROAR

  (A Wardstone Short)

  Loudin Drake’s horse huffed and pawed at the side of the hard packed dirt road he was lingering beside. He was on the Wildermont side of the Leif Greyn River. It was almost Summer’s Day and the festival grounds, two days to the north, were populating quickly. There were scores and scores of travelers coming through Wildermont’s magnificent capital. People from Dakahn, Westland, and Valleya flooded Castlemont on their way to the annual competition and trade event. Loudin didn’t mind. The roads outside of Castlemont were ripe with opportunity all summer long. He didn’t have to try and find a mark, because there was a line of them slowly trundling past. He did have to keep an eye out for a certain Dakaneese Overlord that was undoubtedly going to be coming through to attend the festival, though.

  “Debts unpaid, add up to naught but sleepless nights,” Loudin repeated the saying that one of his ship captains used to spout off to the men.

  It was the truth.

  This was Loudin’s third Summer’s Day Festival in a row. After several years of marching in Seaward, and a few hundred sea voyages, on a score of different ships, he’d tried to make a go as a gambler in the huge port city of O’Dakahn. He was skilled enough to keep from going hungry. And his tattoos, which covered his whole upper torso, including reaching over his bald head to form the sharp beak of a fierce predator bird at his brow, kept most all of the unsavory gamers at a distance. Tattoo covered Seawardsmen weren’t rare, but all of them, to a man, were fit, trained, and willing to fight. He was suited for a gambler’s life, but the crowded city just didn’t agree with his demeanor.

  Even when Loudin won twenty pieces of gold from a merchant in the slave fighting pits, enough to live healthy for half a year, he found he couldn’t stand the crowds and the filth. He’d been squatting at a hidden camp in the Reyhall Forest, just across the river, since the snow melted. He’d been hunting bark skin lizards around the Swell and trading their prized skins in Lokar, and Castlemont, but he’d just been warned that some Westland Lord, or Warden, called Fairchild, had started looking for poachers over there. He wasn’t too concerned about it, but it was one more thing for him to worry about. He didn’t plan on staying in the Reyhall forever, just until after this year’s annual Brawl.

  Loudin always had a knack for picking fighters. After seeing this year’s contestant from Valleya destroy a veteran Blacksword Soldier from Xwarda in an exposition bout last night, he was sure the man would win. They called him the Valleyan Stallion. If he bet on the Valleyan to win the whole competition before it even started, he could get three, four, maybe even five coins to one. He had to get to the festival and make his bet before everyone there heard about the big bastard though. The Valleyan fighter was supposedly staying in Castlemont for another five days, so Loudin wasn’t feeling rushed. He still had to come up with some coins to gamble.

  Loudin figured that they had to keep the huge man away from the festival, lest the other contestants back out. Once the big Valleyan started pounding his way through the preliminary fights, Loudin knew the wagering would all but stop. Brave men would make excuses, or place wagers against themselves and take the beating. It was the way of things. Luckily for Loudin, he saw exactly what he’d hoped to see. Even better, his mark was already being harassed by some ill kept young sword who had the same sort of idea, but not the where withal to pull it off.

  “You’ll be sorry, ya haughty old snoot,” the lad said up to the elderly man and woman riding the bench atop their huge, garishly-painted trade wagon. “There be thieves, bandits, filchers, and worse around here. And that’s just on the road to Summer’s Day. Once you get there, you got the same kind of scavengers from Highwander, and Westland, and Seawa--”

  “That’s enough, lad,” Loudin said as his dagger tip found the young man’s throat. In his other hand he’d gathered up the reins of his horse. They were close enough that Loudin smelled radishes mixed with the steamy fear on the young man’s breath. “I won’t have you talking bad about us Seawardsmen like that. If you’d find a wash tub, people might quit thinking you’re a beggar. Now get along.”

  One look into Loudin’s cold eyes stole any defiance the would-be camp guard had. He turned swiftly, pulling his juggler out of harm’s way, and dashed his mount south down the road.

  “Thank ye, kind sir,” the tinker trader called down. He looked as though he was no more comfortable talking to a trained Seawardsman. “He was a sniffin’ at us all the way in from Low Crossing.”

  “He just wants to make a few coins.” Loudin shrugged, showing a bit of distaste in his expression. He was no gentleman, or lord, nor did he desire to be. He’d learned a long time ago, though, that good clean clothes, and a hot bath every now and then can sometimes get you places. He was hoping to get somewhere now, though in a roundabout way.

  “He may have been a cretin, but he wasn’t wrong about the festival.” Loudin could tell that these people were seasoned traders. They were from Dakahn, he decided, from the cut of their clothes, and the size of their wagon full of goods. They knew the Red Wolf guards patrolled the road, and the
festival grounds.

  “Tis’ true,” the trader nodded. “Last year we had a whole crate full of honey jars snatched right out from under our noses. I could ‘ave made two pieces of gold or traded ‘em for thrice that in wares.”

  “’It’s a shame,” Loudin nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’m heading to the festival grounds on the morrow. If you are laying over in Castlemont, maybe we could travel together?”

  “Not that a real fighting man wouldn’t be a welcome companion,” the trader’s woman said, “but can I ask why you would bother?” She was old and wrinkled and had a wavy mop of wind riddled red hair.

  “My employer has entrusted me with a package to deliver, the sort of parcel that makes a man not eager to travel alone.” Loudin looked left, and then right, making sure that none of the passersby was within earshot. “It’s a sack of coins, for a wager he wants me to place for him. His brother knows a few Lords, and they seem to have the fix in on the Brawl. Folks like you, who earn their living, don’t worry me. And again, to be honest, I can tell by the size of that kettle dangling on the back of your rig, that if I camped alongside at the festival, I wouldn’t be eating jerked meat every night.”

  “The fix is in you say?” the trader asked. By the almost desperate hope Loudin heard in the man’s voice, he knew he could set the hook.

  “I’m to get my employer no less than two coins to one when I place the wager. I’m hoping to get three to one, so I can have a share.”

  “We’ll make High Crossing by dark fall, and camp there,” the trader said, with eyes glazed and glittering with the sparkle of promise. “It would be fine if you shared our stew. In fact, I insist.”