by Megg Jensen
Help us. Free us. Save us.
Confused emotions swirled within her. Was this darkness holding them captive? Were they tricking her into ending her own consciousness? Or, perhaps, was this only her beginning?
She thought of Raseri and her mother, Pesha. She thought of how kind the dragons had been, and how the dragons kept themselves hidden away in the Frozen Wastelands with Myrk to care for them. Tace had once believed in dragons only as a thing of myth, but then she’d ridden Pesha into battle. And now, here, were so many more of their kind. And they weren’t hidden away of their own volition, but trapped beyond death.
Tace didn’t know if she could find a way to get back and help the orcs, but she could, at the very least, help these dragons.
She thrust her essence into the black mass.
Immediately she was tangled in its seething anger. It ripped and bit, threatening to devour her, and she fought to retain her sense of self. Tace couldn’t be defeated so easily. She reached inside, calling upon her own darkness. She fought back until the thing, whatever it was, cowered and slinked away, defeated.
But that was not enough for Tace. She wouldn’t allow this thing to hurt anyone else. Not ever again. She reached out with her thoughts… and slit its throat.
A screech rang out in the cavern, and for a brief moment, the face of an orc flashed in her vision. The orc had a hooked nose and only one tusk. It was a face she didn’t know.
The dragons stomped their clawed feet, causing a great rumble to reverberate in the cavern. Their necks waved in triumph as the chains broke and fell to the ground. Then one dragon stepped up to the hole the black mass had been guarding—and slipped through it.
One by one, the other dragons followed, escaping this otherworldly prison. And then Tace was left alone with the dragon who’d first approached her.
It sidled up next to her and nudged her essence with its snout. Tace wished she could reach out and touch it, as she had with Pesha. Instead, she contented herself with feeling the warmth of its breath.
The dragon inhaled deeply, and to Tace’s surprise, she was pulled right into the great beast. Her senses exploded as she became one with the dragon.
And they truly had become one. When Tace moved her arms, the dragon’s front legs moved. When she stretched her legs, the dragon’s back legs moved. Hope swirled in her chest, and the dragon’s wings outstretched.
She was alive. She was alive, and she was part of this magnificent dragon.
Without another thought, she burst through the same hole the other dragons had departed. It led into a long, dark tunnel, and she fled with thrilling speed toward the other end. She didn’t know what awaited her there, and she didn’t care. She was no longer dead. She was no longer lost. She had united life and death and made them one.
A tiny prick of light beckoned. Wings beating, she flew faster.
As the light grew larger, it was punctuated by the forms of the dragons flying ahead of her. And then they burst through—and into a broad expanse of sky. The other dragons were headed north, pulling so far ahead of Tace that she could barely make out their forms.
Tace the dragon took a deep breath of fresh air as she spiraled through the clouds, feeling freer than she ever had in her life. She was dragon now, her human body dead and gone. She felt a pull of sadness as she thought of Ademar. They could never be together again. She had died and was now reborn.
She looked down to take in the beauty of the world below—only to discover that the sight below was anything but beautiful. She was outside Agitar, above the prairie, and masses of orcs were battling one another. They took each other’s lives without a moment’s thought, and the air was thick with the copper smell of blood.
No! Tace had done everything she could to save them from the infection, and now they’d ended up fighting each other instead. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. The orcs prided themselves on honor above all.
Tace flew above the melee, casting a great shadow. A few stop fighting to gape up at her, but most did not. They were so focused on killing each other that even the appearance of a dragon did nothing to deter them.
Gliding to the edge of the battle, Tace spied Nemia sitting on a horse, watching the battle with a calm look on her face. Beside her, on another horse, sat a huddled figure hidden under a heavy cloak.
Tace flew to her.
She landed with a thud. Nemia instantly spun to face her, but the other figure turned more slowly, deliberately. The orc inside the cloak looked up at Tace, and Tace gasped when she saw his face.
It was the same face she’d seen in the black mass holding the dragons captive.
Her dragon instincts took over. Using her tail, she created a barrier between Nemia and the cloaked orc. She would protect the young girl, the true princess, at all costs from this evil. Nemia screamed, but Tace didn’t check to see if the princess was okay. Her attention was fixed on the orc with the black magic. He had thrown back the hood of his cloak and sat up straight on the back of the horse.
Tace crept closer to him, her claws digging into the soft earth. Her back arched as she prepared to douse him in flame.
“Halt!” he cried, lifting his arms in the air, as if he thought he had control over her.
Inside the dragon Tace laughed, but it came out as a roar so mighty the clanging of swords was drowned out.
“I will protect you from this beast, my queen!” the evil orc yelled.
Tace looked at Nemia, and was stunned at the fear in the girl’s eyes. Did she care for this orc, this dark monster?
Tace swung her long neck back to him. Deep within his eyes, she saw great evil. Dark magic swirled in the depths of his pupils.
He thrust his hands out, sending a ball of twisted blackness at her. Tace jerked her head to the side, narrowly avoiding his magic. But his attack was all the proof she’d needed. He was indeed a magician, rich with evil. She opened her jaws wide, and heat rose from her belly, all the way up her throat.
She emitted a blast of fire so hot it burned him alive.
Amazingly, her blast was so precise that the magician’s horse was barely singed. Now it bolted, dropping the man’s charred body to the ground. Nemia dismounted her horse and ran to his ashes.
Behind her, the battle abruptly stopped. All about the encampment, orcs were falling suddenly to the ground, some writhing in pain, others dead.
“You killed him!” Nemia screamed. “You filthy beast, you killed Azlinar! I’ll hunt you down. Every last one of you will die at my hands!”
Tace backed up. She knew she’d done the right thing. The moment Azlinar perished, the orcs seemed to have lost their will to fight. Yet she was sad that she had hurt Nemia, and sad that she couldn’t explain why she’d killed Azlinar. Unintentionally, she’d pushed Nemia away—again.
She took to the air, her wings hurting as she beat hard. She flew to the north, looking for the other dragons who had escaped.
There was nothing left for her here.
Chapter 61
Ademar’s back ached, but he wouldn’t stop digging. The umgar didn’t have the physical strength needed to help him, as they had spent most of their life studying books, and Ademar had ignored Frensia’s pleas to go for help. He was driven by a need to give Tace a proper burial; he didn’t want to put it off. The faster he buried her body, the sooner she could make the trek to her god, Drothu.
Though Ademar had spent the last few years studying the god of the orcs, and he and Tace had often discussed religion, he wasn’t sure where she stood. Still, if her beliefs mirrored those of the faithful orcs, he knew her body had to be underground before sunset. It was their way, and he would honor it.
Only one thing stood in his way—Raseri. He knew the little dragon hated him. That had been clear from the moment they met. Ademar had tried everything to make friends, and he had thought the dragon was getting closer to at least tolerating him, but ever since he’d started digging, Raseri had done nothing but get in his way.
Sho
oing her away for the hundredth time, he turned to the dragon, who was clearly agitated, her wings flapping erratically. “I’m angry she’s gone, too,” he said, not knowing whether the beast could understand him. She seemed to understand Tace easily enough, but perhaps that was due to their bond. “But if I am to honor her religion, she must be underground before sundown. Please, please let me work. Let me do this for her.”
Raseri flew into Ademar’s face, scratched his cheek with one of her sharp claws, and flew off before he could knock her away.
Ademar lifted a hand to his cheek. His fingers came away wet with blood. “Damn dragon. At least now I can finish what I started.”
He grabbed the shovel again, stabbed the earth as hard as he could, and flung a scoop of dirt over his shoulder.
When at last he’d dug a hole deep enough to hold Tace’s body, he looked over at Frensia, who sat off to the side, paging through a book they had found in the rubble. Ademar cleared his throat, unsure what to say.
Frensia looked up, realized what Admear was about to do, and put their book down. They joined Ademar at the edge of the grave.
Ademar picked up Tace, holding her body in his arms for the last time. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. She was supposed to cure the orcs of their insidious infection. She was going to unite everyone to stand up against whatever power had decided to wage war on them. She had so much to do.
But right or wrong, she was gone, and Ademar would do the best he could by her.
He laid her gently in the grave, blood dripping from his cheek onto the dirt. Thanks to Raseri, he would leave a little part of himself in the ground with her. It would never be enough, but it was something.
As Ademar picked up the shovel to toss dirt on Tace’s body, Frensia began to sing a strange, lilting tune. The finality of the situation kicked Ademar in the gut. He gasped for air, and tears spilled down his cheeks. This was the end. His adventure with Tace was over, even though he felt like their book still had many pages yet to be written.
He gathered himself and returned to his work. He was determined to finish before the light of the day was gone. It was the final thing he would do for her, and he wanted it to be perfect.
When he threw the last bit of dirt on her grave, he threw the shovel to the side and fell to his knees, spent. Frensia’s cool palm rested on his shoulder. The umgar hadn’t stopped singing since Tace’s burial, and they continued to sing even now. Ademar found a strange measure of peace in the tune, even though he couldn’t understand the words. Somehow it spoke directly to his soul, tending to the open wounds.
A roar filled the sky, and Ademar looked up. A magnificent dragon was flying above them—and Raseri was flying beside it. For a moment, he thought the huge dragon was Pesha, Raseri’s mother, but another glance told him the coloring was all wrong.
To his surprise, the dragon circled and landed right beside Tace’s grave. Ademar studied the gentle curve of its spikes and the purple swirls on its scaled body. It was truly breathtaking.
The dragon bent its head down toward Tace’s grave. It looked at Ademar, its eyes strangely knowing—and then it opened its mouth and let out a long breath of air over the grave.
Ademar stepped back. He didn’t understand what was happening, and he didn’t want to be within fire-breathing range.
The dragon nodded once, nudged Raseri with its snout, and took off again, heading north.
Raseri settled around Ademar’s shoulders as if it were her favorite place to be. Perhaps the other dragon’s visit had given Raseri the calm she so desperately needed. Ademar didn’t argue. They both needed comfort.
He walked to the edge of the grave once more and knelt on one knee. “I loved you, Tace. I’ll never forget you.”
He bent his head, and to whatever gods were listening, he asked for her safe passage to her next destination.
A rustling sound made him raise his head.
A fist had thrust itself out of the dirt.
Tace’s dragon ring glinted in the waning light.
Chapter 62
Nemia skulked around her old bedroom in the ruins of the castle of Agitar. She’d been defeated, all of her plans for naught. Azlinar, her only ally, her only friend, was gone, reduced to a pile of ashes by a dragon.
She knew the dragons well, and she knew who controlled them. Tace. Together, they’d found the dragons hidden in the Northern Wastelands, hidden deep within a cavern. Nemia had sat on the back of the dragon, Pesha, as she’d flown from their hideout to Agitar. There, Pesha had assisted Tace in defeating the xarlug. Even the little dragon, Raseri, had been allowed to take part in the battle. But Nemia had been shooed away the moment they landed. They had discarded her like a piece of trash.
This time, they had outright attacked her—and killed her greatest friend.
Anger boiled deep inside, stoking the fires of revenge.
Nemia had planned on dealing with Tace after becoming the rightful queen of Agitar, though she hadn’t yet decided how. Azlinar had always told her to be patient, to focus on one thing at a time. She’d followed his advice, and in so doing, had nearly recaptured the orcs of Agitar.
Now he was gone, as were her chances at success.
Except…
Perhaps…
Maybe there was a way.
Nemia hopped off her bed to the floor, which was strewn with rocks and ash. She shuffled through the rubble to the window. Looking out upon those who remained in the encampment, she sighed. So many had died along with Azlinar. But others remained alive to bury the dead.
How would she convince them now that she was their true ruler? A memory niggled at her mind. After the battle with the xarlug, Azlinar had told her of a dark mage hidden among her enemies. She needed to find him. But how? And when she did, how would she know him? Azlinar hadn’t even disclosed the man’s name.
She looked out to the west, where a strange cloud was growing. Instead of descending from the sky, this cloud rose from the ground, a plume of brown dirt. It was a horde, advancing on Agitar, and her orcs wouldn’t be ready.
If only Dalgron had listened to her. If only he had surrendered. The orcs of Agitar could have stood as one against anyone. Now, the remaining orcs would be alone, they would suffer.
And Nemia would leave them to fend for themselves.
She needed her rest. She returned to her bed, yawned, and stretched her arms over her head. She thought of her mother, still chained to a wall underground. She was probably hungry and thirsty. Well, her needs could wait.
All would be dealt with in good time.
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Acknowledgments
Thanks to my amazing editing team: David Gatewood and Joelle Sisto. They take my mental drool and turn it into something magnificent. Sharon Rosen joined my editing team at the last minute, and I’m thankful she did because she saved me from a few big mistakes!
I am lucky to have awesome artists to create my covers. Michael Gauss drew the original art, and Steven Novak turned it into a perfect cover.
Stefanie Verish drew the map of Doros, doing an incredible job, as always.
Huge thanks to my family, who supported me when I worked weekends and nights because there isn’t always enough time during the day.
To my readers… I know it was two years between releases. I faced some really serious medical issues during that time. I’m thrilled I was able to finish this book and the next. Thank you for sticking with me. It means everything!
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Megg Jensen, A Legacy of Blood