Dragon of Eriden - The Complete Collection

by Samantha Jacobey

  Do they not know me? he pondered.

  He had been held captive for two decades, and much had changed during that time. It felt odd not to cause a stir with his arrival, as there had been a time all in Eriden knew and respected their great king. He could not have gone anywhere that he was not recognized and revered before his fall.

  Taking wing, he coasted over the streets as he had done when he searched for his daughter. The people below gave him hardly a second glance as his shadow passed. Reaching the market, he pulled up, landing on one of the adjacent structures and scouring the throng of people below.

  On the far side of the auction house stood a stage, where a man offered goods for sale to the masses, which would go to the highest bidder. A long row of wooden planks, large boxes and crates lined the far end. A few casks of water also stood on the front side, and a trough provided water to animals as they were displayed for auction.

  In the center, a small boy-sized body with cloven hooves for feet stood upon the wooden slats, his face long and narrow. “A woodland creature,” Ziradon observed, as there were many types and forms on the inner mountain ranges. He must have been hunted and trapped to be brought to market. It saddened him that such dealings took place, especially in the bright light of day.

  Recalling his reason for the visit, the great dragon decided this would make for a great opportunity to get the attention he deserved. Leaving his perch, he flapped his wings a few times to carry himself across the courtyard and landed upon the stage. “You there!” he shouted, sending the proprietor and his helpers scattering.

  The faun in chains and bound by a rope tether, he did not try to bolt and instead stood petrified. Tilting his head back, long pointed ears protruded from beneath his shaggy hair. “A dragon,” he whispered.

  “Yes, a dragon,” Ziradon bellowed. “Where is the magistrate?”

  Excited chatter swept through the market as some dared to creep closer, while others hurried to get away, creating chaos in the shifting sea of bodies. When the auctioneer braved the platform to claim his unsold minion, the dragon blew smoke at him and growled, “You trap the creatures of my forest for gain?”

  “I’m within my rights,” the salesman countered shakily, pulling on the rope to lead the faun away.

  “I’m the magistrate,” a mid-sized man with no hair announced, approaching boldly. “What’s the meaning of this, dragon? Why are you interrupting our sale? This lot must be moved, and quickly, as a new one will arrive tomorrow.”

  “I am Ziradon, the Supreme Dragon!” their large brown visitor announced loudly, but bouts of laughter and heckling prevented him from saying more. His large emerald-green orbs glaring at the crowd, he could feel their animosity radiating towards him.

  “Excuse me,” the bald spokesman joined in the laughter as he rubbed his barren scalp, “but if you want to impersonate a king, you shouldn’t choose a dead one.”

  “Dead one?” Ziradon growled. “Who told you I was dead?”

  “We heard he was killed a few weeks ago,” the wizard elaborated, moving closer. Obviously unafraid of their giant patron, he divulged, “It would appear his prison fell down about his head, and none too soon I would imagine. Gwirwen has been fighting off a rebellion, and we can’t wait to see if he holds on to the crown.”

  Staring at him through narrow slits, the rightful king seethed. “Interested in the politics of the council, are you?”

  “Naw,” the ring leader laughed. “We have wagered on the outcome. Care to place a bet?” he teased.

  “I am not here to gamble,” Ziradon thundered, spewing fire into the air and sending a few more locals scattering. “I have come to arrange a meeting with the magistrate,” he insisted.

  “Well, that would be me. Gradien Silversmith, at your service,” the dignitary replied, his lips curled in an odd fashion. “Now, kindly get off the stage,” he stated more pointedly.

  Having heard all he cared to, the dragon smacked the wood beams with his tail, sweeping the appendage across the front. The motion caught some of the boxes piled on the end and smashed them, allowing a few dozen brightly colored forest fairies to escape, then spilled the kegs of water onto the thirsty sand.

  “That’s enough, dragon!” Gradien shouted, his face red as he poked a finger at him through the air. “We run a legitimate business here!”

  “Not for long,” Ziradon growled, his old body coiled for a fight.

  “What, you made it a point to break out of prison just to shut us down?” the man jeered, keeping the dragon occupied.

  Behind the old beast, a few of the vendors prepared to jump him, binding him before he could destroy anything else. Catching their scent as they worked their way around, Ziradon sneered, “My successor has allowed you too much freedom, I think. I will have to rectify that when I retake the throne.”

  Spinning, a stream of fire blew from his nostrils as he laid waste to their entire gallery. Taking to the air, he continued to burn the wood and bamboo, scorching any of the men who ventured too close.

  The ground erupting into chaos, the people of Whitefair did not appear happy with their destructive visitor. Gathering arms and ropes, they prepared for another attempt to subdue him, cranking a large catapult out into the open and setting it up.

  Seeing the device, the dragon scorned, “You insolent fools. I’m here to render aid, and this is the welcome I receive!”

  “Render aid,” Gradien mocked, shaking his fist at him and shouting. Smoke billowed around him and many of the townspeople worked to bring the firehose. Pumping precious water through it, the blaze had to be extinguished before it could spread.

  Taking a higher circle, Ziradon watched them in disgust and was on his third slow loop when a dragon appeared in the distance. His green scales distinctive, Lamwen grew in size until he had closed the distance between them.

  Daring to descend, they landed once again on the roofs around the blackened market, only this time Gradien appeared far more receptive.

  “Lamwen,” he gasped. “Two dead dragons in the same day!”

  “I’m not dead,” Lamwen growled, pivoting to take in the destruction.

  “Yeah, that’s what he said,” the man chortled, indicating Ziradon with a shrug. “Why are you here, destroying our fine auction?”

  “Your market is an abomination,” Ziradon howled. “At least when I reigned, you kept such trade under cover. Gwirwen has allowed the open abuse of our creatures,” he lamented, saddened at their suffering.

  Glaring at the wizard, Lamwen confirmed, “This wretched place deserves to be destroyed. Perhaps we should let the elves have them,” he called to his king.

  “Elves? What elves?” the magistrate perked up, spreading his hands wide. “I don’t see any elves here.”

  “The ones marching on your city, fool,” Lamwen replied, adjusting his grip on the wall. “There is a garrison crossing from the south. They will be here in two days at most.”

  “A garrison,” Gradien replied more quietly. Whitefair had a wall but had never needed it to fend off an attack. It was mostly used to ensure he got a share of anything that came in to or went out of the city.

  “My daughter will be here in a few hours,” Ziradon growled. “You will bargain with her for your surrender. Her army will provide you aid and protection.”

  “And if we refuse this… protection?”

  “Then we will slaughter your people and take the city for ourselves,” the old dragon challenged. “You deserve such judgement. However, we could be persuaded to bring you in with us if you were willing to accept unconditional terms.”

  “What matters to you is the city,” Gradien said more calmly, the pieces fitting into place. “You worry for the oasis, not my inhabitants.”

  “As do you,” Lamwen agreed tartly.

  “Very well,” the magistrate grinned, offering a half bow. “I will speak with the dragoness and come to an agreement we will both find satisfactory.”

  Turning to his crewmen, he shouted, “
Get the fires put out and clean this mess up. Market’s closed until further notice,” he added over his shoulder as they left them to complete the task.

  “Are we set?” Amicia called, standing on a rock so she could see across the heads of her troops.

  “Aye, we are grouped and ready,” the Mate agreed. “The gnomes will make two passes each to deposit our forces outside the city gates, with Meena and Animir bringing us and the captains to you.”

  They had eaten and rested, and the sun hung low in the sky as they prepared to transposition to Whitefair.

  “My father says the magistrate will be agreeable to our terms, so I don’t think it will take long to work out the details,” she informed them. “Be ready to travel as soon as I call for you, and I will strike the bargain as quickly as I can.”

  Taking Rey’s hand, she would transport him, Hayt, and Zae with her when she met with Gardien Silversmith, a man she despised on her husband’s word alone. Shifting in an instant, they landed in a small square somewhere within the town, as Ziradon had directed.

  Turning in a slow circle, Ami could see the taller, two-story buildings on all four sides had windows that opened to the ground on which they stood. Nice place for an ambush, she muttered to herself, wary of her soon-to-be ally. On one side, a long table with six chairs sat unoccupied at the moment. Where’s the council? she mused.

  “Welcome to the court of Whitefair,” Gradien greeted, his bald head glistening in the waning light. Standing before them washed and wearing clean clothes, he made a handsome target, his smile too large to be genuine.

  “Are you the magistrate?” Amicia demanded, taking charge. Her mouth gaped open in disbelief as she realized his resemblance to the man who had helped thieves steal Oldrilin on their previous visit. Horrified, she could almost feel the slobber he had left in her ear as he had assaulted her.

  Fortunately, she had three friends forming a line behind her, and each of them openly brandished a weapon. They were unafraid to use them if need be, and that gave her strength to face him boldly. She swallowed, pushing her fear from their previous encounter aside as she demanded again, “What say you?”

  Glaring at her, Gradien measured the anger behind her words, opting to appear surprised, as if he had never lain eyes upon her.

  Stiff, Rey also recognized the man from their encounter at the market the day he almost lost his small friend. “That’s him,” he whispered, clenching his fists around the handle of his sword but not moving to create a scene.

  “I am, but I expected a dragoness, not a flimsy mortal girl,” Gradien taunted. His eyes flicking between them, he considered these might be there to spring their trap before the real representative would appear.

  Glaring at him, Amicia spat, “You are a wizard. You recognize the fire within me. And if you do not, then I am speaking to the wrong man.”

  Pursing his lips, he studied her bravado. “The dragoness Kaliwyn is legend, lost two decades ago when her father was deposed as king. You claim her rights as heir to the throne of Eriden?”

  “I do, wizard,” she sneered, lowering her chin as she glared at him. “I have an army ready to bring to the city. We must fortify the walls and seal the gates, as a battle will be upon us in less than a day… two if we are fortunate.”

  “And what are we offered in exchange for the use of our fortress?” he scowled. “Whitefair runs on coin, which I am sure you are aware.”

  “There is no profit in this for you,” she coughed, her gaze fixed upon him as her companions watched for any sign of an ambush from above. “We will let you live,” she continued, her voice low and even. “All those who survive the attack, at any rate. I cannot offer any more than that.”

  “You drive a hard bargain,” he slurred while crossing his wide chest with his muscled arms. He realized they had little choice, but stalling their discussion was paramount. “How are you going to bring in your troops on such little notice? We are a bit out of the way,” he chuckled, “and transposition has its limits.”

  “They will arrive outside the city in a few minutes. I have captains who will come here for the planning of the battle, and you will accommodate them as need be,” she supplied coolly.

  “Very well,” he agreed, raising his hands in mock welcome, a signal to his men to hold their weapons for the moment.

  “Piers, we are ready,” she reached out, her eyes still fixed on the magistrate.

  “Aye, we’ll be right there,” her old friend replied.

  A few minutes later, Meena arrived with him, Yaodus, Baeweth, and a few of their captains. Only giving the magistrate a cursory nod, they took over the table and spread their maps and parchment to lay their plans.

  “Well, this is an odd lot,” Gradien observed, sidling up to the girl. “You were serious about getting right to work.” He had intended to rain death upon them as soon as they arrived, but their number and mode of transportation had him intrigued, and the fact she did appear in charge even more so.

  “We have less than a day to prepare, but we will work through the night to make it happen,” she replied, her tone not so hostile. “Thank you for the use of your city. You have those who will join the fight?”

  Studying her, his dark brown eyes softened. “I don’t have an army if that’s what you mean. Our guards are little more than mercenaries. Still, they have weapons and may be of some use to you.”

  “Then gather them,” she agreed, offering her first real smile. “If the elf army is as massive as the one we defeated over the dwarf mountains, we are going to need every sword we can get.”

  In Our Defense

  “Send the criers,” Gradien announced. Stomping through the entrance to an adjacent building where the court had really assembled, he met his head enforcer with a scowl. “We have a change in plans. We need to gather all of your men and have them bring their arms.”

  “You can’t seriously be giving in to their demands,” Corvack grunted, indicating the group within their trap. “We have them, Gray. Why not mow them down as planned and get on with our lives?”

  “What, and hope the elves allow us to continue business as usual while the rest of Eriden burns?” the leader of their township growled. “We need every able-bodied man we can get to help with the defense,” he continued giving orders.

  “I won’t allow it,” one of the court members disagreed. “You’ve gone soft in the head, old man.”

  Turning, Gradien blasted him with a wave of power, knocking him flat against a wall and pinning him in place. “And you forget who you’re talking to. I’m a wizard first and foremost, and I didn’t get this post for my brains. I’m stronger than any of you lot, and I say when we stand and fight.”

  The wizard he held gasped for air, his feet not quite reaching the floor as he kicked them haphazardly. His tan skin taking on a bright red hue, the others backed away.

  “I’ll send the alarm,” a third in their party agreed, turning to get out of there.

  “Be sure that you do. Have them meet in the plaza,” their magistrate decreed. “We will also need lamps for our guests, as we will work through the night to prepare,” he addressed his aide.

  “Right away, sir,” a small servant agreed with a bow, scurrying away to secure them.

  Dropping his rival, Gradien glared at the crumpled man who knelt on the ground and gulped for air. “You stand against me again and a pyre will burn in your honor,” he warned.

  “Yes, sir,” he grunted, rubbing at his throat and chest. “I’ll see that the blacksmith supplies all the weapons that he can.”

  “Good,” the magistrate smiled. “I will rejoin the newcomers and help with the plans. I know this city like the back of my hand. If their numbers are great, we will be in for one hell of a fight, but we will give them a few surprises if we’re able.”

  “How do you know they speak the truth?” Corvack pushed, blocking his exit. “She’s just a girl.”

  “How many troops did they bring?” Gray asked calmly.

  “Ne
arly a thousand from what I can tell,” his scout spoke up. “They materialized outside the front gate in two waves. That’s it – two.”

  Glaring at the court members to enlist their support, Gradien sneered, “So they are either all gifted with magical ability or someone can move a great deal over quite a large distance, a feat beyond any of us I am certain.” Turning to his enforcer, he spat, “What other proof do you need?”

  “They could be here to plunder the city,” a hidden member offered, not caring to be recognized and punished.

  “Pfft,” Gradien spewed. “We are wasting time. They wouldn’t go to all this trouble to steal from us. The city will fall if we don’t help and still may even if we do. Follow my orders and prepare for our defense,” he barked as he dodged the other man and continued on his way.

  Stomping down the corridor, he rejoined the new arrivals, announcing in his robust voice, “We have unleashed the criers. They will sweep the streets in search of all who will join the fight. I have also arranged for lamps for you to work by, assuming this will be a sleepless night.”

  “As if any of us could,” Amicia mumbled, earning a few chuckles from her friends.

  Nodding, the town’s leader noted their camaraderie, impressed with how easily they worked together. Going over their markings on the map, Gray continued, “Might I suggest we also barricade the gate. It would buy us at least a little time.”

  “Aye,” the Mate agreed, tapping the crude drawing of the city. “We already have a group of dwarves working on the task. Hayt is a skilled engineer. He will know of its construction.”

  “Zaendra has transported him to Rhong, where they are gathering Firen’s team, along with supplies to complete the task,” Amicia commented. “Beginning construction with the rising sun, they hope it will be completed before the elves arrive.”