Obsidian Wings (Soul of a Dragon Book 1)

by Clara Hartley

  “My time is not something to be wasted, even if I am immortal. But your foolishness does entertain me. You have fifteen minutes. Run, child. Let me watch how you struggle for your life.”

  The joy in the goddess’s tone crawled over Constance’s skin like spiders. There was a pool of sadism lurking beneath the Mother’s perfect exterior, and something told Constance that she didn’t want to find out how deep it was.

  As the Mother turned back around to address the crowd and explain the new arrangement, Constance scampered off to gather as many souls as she could. Ashur landed next to the Mother, a hulking figure of bestial destruction. Constance tried hard not to think about the likely outcome of the fight. It was the only way to find courage and press on.

  Rayse fought through the pain in his leg as he ran toward the keep. It blazed from his calves and upward like a searing fire, but his mate was likely facing the Dragon Mother alone, and that didn’t give him time to dawdle.

  A plethora of curse words flew from his breath. If he weren’t injured and weakened by the bond, he would have reached in an instant.

  His weakness made it difficult for him to focus. His vision fogged.

  When he finally reached the clearing in front of Dragon Keep, the pain nearly blinded him. He might have reopened one or two stitches in the process.

  The Dragon Mother’s voice boomed through the air, fueled by the echoes of magic. “The femriahl has volunteered herself to be the ishnar kra and will fight in Rayse’s place.”

  What?

  That couldn’t be right. Had Constance ever been in an actual fight before? And who was her opponent? He pushed toward the front, ignoring the stares and shocked looks he garnered. Cool air whipped at him as he threw his body from the crowd.

  “Ah, Rayse,” the Mother said.

  He peered up at her and was immediately blinded by her ethereal beauty. But even such beauty could not hide the wicked sneer tainting her features.

  “Only showing yourself after your mate has taken the fall for you?” she continued.

  “Where is she?” he growled.

  “I expect more respect from my subjects. Bow to your knee before me.”

  He hadn’t bowed to any dragon other than his parents, and that was centuries ago. But she was his goddess. Even as wicked as she appeared, years of conditioning and faith forced him to still believe in her power and that she deserved worship.

  He lowered himself to the ground, but not before the sight of Ashur, perched in dragon form next to his goddess, caught his eye. The brown dragon reminded him of a lap dog. “My apologies, Dragon Mother, but I am concerned for my femriahl. Pardon my earlier outburst.”

  “Then you should have properly greeted me as the femrah. I see your cowering as an insult. Have I wasted my time on the Everstones?”

  “No, Dragon Mother.” His jaw tensed. “Pardon me, my goddess, but I must ask you again where my femriahl is. My ears must have been mistaken, but I thought I heard you say she was to be my ishnar kra.

  “You did not hear wrongly.”

  “Who, then?”

  “She is to protect your position of femrah by battling my chosen champion, Ashur.”

  His gaze moved to Constance’s opponent. The brown dragon was actually smaller than most, but Rayse’s frail-by-comparison human wife was even tinier, and stood no chance against the towering creature. She’d be crushed in an instant.

  Rayse dipped his head even lower. “I’m sorry to say this, Dragon Mother, but I don’t think her promise as ishnar kra can be accepted. Common practice states that I, as the contender, will have to agree to the champion that is selected.”

  The goddess chuckled. “I am your god. I set the rules.”

  His world darkened. Most of his dignity had already been smothered by this single exchange, but he didn’t care. He had no concern for dragon pride if it meant he couldn’t protect the mate he loved. “I beseech you, goddess, please reconsider. I will gladly represent myself and fight alone.”

  He wouldn’t stand a chance against Ashur—not in this condition. He could surrender right then, and was about to if the goddess did not allow his mate to give up her position as ishnar kra, but he would prefer going down with a fight,

  The goddess shook her head. “That would be so much less entertaining.”

  “Then I surren—”

  “Rayse!” Constance’s voice shot toward him. She was running toward him. “Why are you out here? You should be resting.” She knelt before him and cupped his cheek with one hand. Her other hand rested on his shoulder. Her touch always provided him with a cooling sensation he would never tire of.

  He curved his fingers around hers. “And feed you to the wolves?”

  “You were going to surrender.”

  “I cannot let you face that brute alone.” His eyes darted to Ashur, then back to her face.

  Creases marred Constance’s features. “You can’t do that. You’ll lose your position.”

  “I’ve allowed myself to get injured. It’s survival of the fittest around here, little fire.”

  “I can do this.”

  He snorted. “How?

  “Greta taught me how to defend myself with magic. It’s not just healing spells I’m aware of.”

  “Have you ever been in a fight?” He narrowed his eyes. “Have you felt the adrenaline muddling up your decisions, the spur-of-the-moment fears? We are warriors trained from young to cope with that.”

  “You know I lived in the streets. Quick reflexes aren’t a dragon-only trait.”

  “With how slow you humans are? They might as well be.”

  A wisp of smoke tugged Constance from him. “Are the both of you finished?”

  “We are,” he responded. “And I have decided—” Constance’s pleading look made him halt. Trust me, it said. It took all of his resolve to ignore the fear shaking in the pits of his stomach, and to ignore the roaring of the dragon inside him. “Promise me, goddess, that should I surrender mid-fight, the challenge will cease and no more harm will come to Constance.”

  “That isn’t any fun, is it?” The Mother crossed her arms. Only then did he realize just how sharp, like talons, her nails were. “But you have my word.”

  “Thank you.” He dipped his head in a sign of respect.

  The time it took for Constance to ready herself on the battlefield felt like forever. Next to the steps, she set aside a bottle of… critters? Souls for her magic, perhaps. He was aware of the mechanics of how it worked.

  The Dragon Mother clapped her hands together. “And the challenge starts in five… four…”

  As the goddess counted down slowly, Constance hurriedly opened the lid of the jar. “Es rea misreagou, kisla misreagou.” Souls of all colors glimmered from the jar and amassed into the palms of her hands.

  “…three…”

  You’ve made a lot of mistakes, Rayse Everstone, he told himself. He watched the brown dragon stalking around his mate. Ashur was going to eat her alive. But this will be the biggest you’ve ever made.

  “…one…”

  Ashur threw his head back and blew his merciless red embers toward the sky.

  Rayse saw the determination in Constance’s glare. Trust her. Trust is the greatest weapon we have.

  There was a ninety-nine percent chance she was going to die, but Constance didn’t let herself think about that. Her mind focused on the movements of her opponent, and the souls whirling around her fingers. She had plenty of magic to work with, but it would not last long before nature called its powers back. Ten minutes. This fight had to be over in ten or her defeat would be as sure as the sky was blue.

  What sounded like a snicker rumbled from the brown dragon’s throat. The beast was at least four times her height.

  You’re going to be fine, she thought, not believing her own encouragement. Just fine.

  “Glacilis provoto,” she said, readying her spell. The cool of the ice graced her fingertips. She breathed out a deep sigh. Her eyes followed each step the dra
gon took. Ashur was taunting her like a cat would a mouse.

  Her wary gaze dropped to the dragon’s talons. They would shred her faster than a dog would its lunch. No matter what, Ashur could not reach her. She’d die in less than two seconds should that happen.

  In the midst of her inner dialogue, she heard the feet of the dragon lift off the ground. She vaulted toward her right, not certain where Ashur would land. Beginner’s luck blessed her, and the dragon missed.

  The ground quaked as Ashur’s feet landed next to her. She reached and sent a shock of ice into the dragon’s skin.

  She sensed loss as the magic seeped away from her. Already she felt less protected.

  Three… No, two… Two more blasts before she’d run out of spells, and then she’d be a sitting duck in the battlefield, completely useless as a magicless human.

  A loud hiss sliced the air next to her. She glanced to her left as she sidestepped to make more distance between the dragon and her. The chill had cracked through Ashur’s hide like a web.

  Growling followed the hiss. She had pissed off the dragon. Determination and rage blazed off him. He shot her an expression that seemed to say, I’m going to make you pay twice over.

  She gulped, but didn’t let the fear get the better of her.

  “Glacilis provoto,” she called again, once more summoning the ice magic. If only she knew stronger forms of magic. She was certain they existed. Greta said her spells were more effective than when others cast them, but Constance doubted it would make up for her lack of knowledge.

  Ashur lunged at her again.

  She tried to do the same thing and dodged, but a dragon’s claw caught her. Damn it. She shouldn’t have expected the same trick to work twice.

  Ashur lifted her, and soon she was staring at him eye to eye. She sucked in a deep breath. Her hands were constricted, but she still had magic in them. She sent the chill to wherever her hands touched Ashur.

  It was a foolish idea. Ashur howled in pain, but so did she. The ice magic spread from his claws toward her, and she had caged herself into an ice prison. She waited for the dragon to let go, but he did not.

  Her head pivoted upward, and she stared at death itself.

  No!

  Fear clamped down on Rayse. Once Ashur’s claws wrapped around his mate, he felt his heart splinter, readying to crack into a million pieces. His world almost ended right then, but not quite yet.

  If only he could shift… if only he weren’t a useless piece of nothing dangling at the edge of the fighting ground.

  He was supposed to trust her, but his trust had turned into a rope stretched thin. In another place, another time, Constance would have protected him, but it was obviously beyond her ability now.

  “I surrender!” he yelled. “Let her go.” His voice came out in a hoarse croak. The pressure had beaten him into a state close to tears.

  Ashur did not look intent on fulfilling the Dragon Mother’s promise, and Rayse was certain he had lost his mate then. Constance shifted her head to look at him. The terror in her eyes embedded into his mind. He’d never forget that. He had allowed that expression to happen.

  Rayse, the Black Menace, King of the Mountains, the Messiah. What use were such titles if he couldn’t even protect the woman he loved?

  He felt himself gradually diminishing into nothing at all.

  When all hope seeped from him, the Dragon Mother stepped in. With a flick of her wrist, she separated Constance from Ashur. The goddess had not been delicate with the act, and Constance fell, unconscious, onto the hard ground beneath her.

  The thump Rayse heard nearly paralyzed him.

  But Constance was alive. At least he had that.

  Muted laughter came from the goddess’s lips. “I suppose that’s the end of it. Ashur is the new leader of the Everstones, and Rayse is… nothing.”

  Chapter 19

  Rayse sat inside a small cave. Its walls were slick with grime, and a dark, reddish hue tinted them.

  Shen had brought them there almost immediately after the fight. There were many dragons targeting Rayse’s throat, and Fraser had to hold them off as Shen led them through their escape.

  I am so sorry, Rayse said internally for the umpteenth time that night. He feathered his touch over Constance’s arm. Miraculously, she had escaped that fall with only some scrapes and bruises. He wondered if the Dragon Mother had planned that.

  “This place is secure,” Shen said. “I was reluctant to reveal it to you. It’s been my sanctuary for the longest time. But we don’t have many options, and I’m sure that many of the dragons in Dragon Keep are eager to end your life.”

  Rayse growled. “They don’t want me to recover and take back my position. Why are you not one of them? You could easily defeat Ashur and be femrah.”

  “We’ve shared three hundred years together, my lord.”

  “You don’t have to call me that anymore.”

  “You are still lord of the Everstones to me, and the clan will only stay together with you at the head. Your fall is just a temporary mishap.”

  Rayse turned his head toward his mate. “I’m not sure I want to be lead again. If I can’t protect her, then perhaps it’s better to hide her.”

  “You can and you will.” Shen shook his head. “This challenge business is ludicrous. I don’t know why you haven’t gotten rid of that practice.”

  “It had never bothered me before. Besides, I can’t remove a millennia-long tradition just like that.”

  “You are Rayse Everstone. The first to unite such a large coalition of dragons. Wielder of power so strong, unlike ever seen before.”

  “And he is now nothing. Our goddess even said I was nothing.”

  “I’m sure this is a test from her of some sort.”

  Rayse scoffed at the idea. “What point is there in this? She isn’t on our side.”

  “You need to have more faith, my lord. The both of you are still alive, aren’t you? Unharmed, for the most part. There’s a saying—failure is the furnace to the sword. You need it allow yourself to be sharpened.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, not wrapping his head around how this situation made him any stronger.

  “I will take my leave. There are supplies I must gather. I am certain that this place will not be found, but just to make sure, I’ll lead away any dragons who are in the vicinity.”

  “Thank you, Shen.”

  Shen swung a hand over his stomach and bowed. “I’m simply carrying out my duty.”

  Rayse exhaled sharply after Shen left. The hideout was mostly dim, covered by vines at the entrance. A faint candle lit the small cavity, although Rayse didn’t need it much. His dragon senses were failing, but he could still see in the dark.

  Being left alone in his thoughts made his self-loathing even worse. The dragon in him did not cease to scold and chastise him. Look at what you’ve done to our mate. You should have claimed her sooner.

  He had felt pain just as bad, or worse, in the past—watching the human tribe who had cared for him slaughtered had scarred him. But that didn’t make this pain feel any better. He was looking upon the other half of him, the person he loved more than himself, wounded and cast aside due to his weakness. He had promised himself to not succumb to weakness, but here he was, kneeling like helpless prey.

  He was stuck in his head like a doomed, trapped bird, bickering with himself about what he should have done and what could have been. He wasn’t femrah anymore. Now what? How long would human civilization last without dragons as couriers? Would Falron and Yvrdeen collapse as economies and return to the dark ages? Would all he had worked for unravel?

  He tried to push that worry down. It wasn’t his burden to bear. Humanity could collapse, but at least Constance was safe. Or, at least, he told himself that.

  He heard the shifting of Constance’s body hours later. He stirred in an instant.

  “Rayse?” she called.

  “I’m right here,” he said. He bent toward her, ignoring the searing pain all o
ver his body. His time was almost up. “Right here.”

  “What happened? All I remember is… is fighting Ashur and then…” Her lips parted. “Where are we?”

  “Shen’s hideout. We’re safe.”

  She sat herself up, quicker than her body could handle. He held his tongue as he watched her wince, wanting to scold her for being so reckless. “The fight,” she said. “Ashur was about to… You’re… I’ve lost. You’re not femrah anymore.”

  Unable to hide the dejection in him, he shot her a sorry expression and said, “No, I’m not.”

  “I’m… I’m sorry, Rayse. I’ve let you down.”

  How could this amazing woman, even after all she’d done for him, think as such? It was the other way around. He had wronged her. He should have surrendered in the first place and not let his greed for power fool his judgment. “Of course not. You were brave and strong.”

  “You’ve lost the clan.”

  “I can get it back.” If the mating didn’t kill him first. And if he wanted to. Did he even deserve to be femrah? He doubted Ashur would last in his position for long, but perhaps the next dragon would be more deserving.

  “Can you?” Hope beamed from her.

  “When… if I recover, I can return and seize control of Dragon Keep through rightful challenge, as Ashur did to me.”

  “What do you mean, if?”

  He brushed his hand over her cheek. Such a touch would normally rile his dragon, but even the beast was getting too weak. “Are you tired?” He noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

  “You’re avoiding the question. What do you mean by if, Rayse? There is a chance you won’t recover?”

  He sighed. He stared into her caramel eyes. So beautiful. He reminded himself that for trust to build, he had to let go of his secrets, even if he had convinced himself that the secrets were there for her own good. “I might not have more than a few days left, little fire. It is uncommon for a mate pair to not fulfill the bond for this long. My dragon is exhausted, and so am I.” He looked down at his leg, now more broken because of his forced hobble toward the keep. “These injuries are taking their toll as well.”