Serpentine Risen

by C. K. Rieke

  Serpentine Risen

  C.K. Rieke

  Contents

  Books by C.K. Rieke

  Map of The Arr

  I. An Unlikely Alliance

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  II. The Great Divide

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  III. Ripples of the Past

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  IV. Where Sunlight Fades

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  V. Where Evil Dwells

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  VI. The Return of Dragons

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

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  Author’s Notes

  About the Author

  Books by C.K. Rieke

  The Dragon Sands Book I:

  Assassin Born

  The Dragon Sands Book II:

  Revenge Song

  The Dragon Sands Book III:

  Serpentine Risen

  The Path of Zaan Book I:

  The Road to Light

  The Path of Zaan Book II:

  The Crooked Knight

  The Path of Zaan Book III:

  The Devil King

  Man of the Arr: A Novella

  This novel was published by Crimson Cro Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 Hierarchy LLC

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover by C.K. Rieke.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Please don’t pirate this book.

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  To Laura Kingsley

  Who helped me ascend to where I am today with your knowledge and skill. Your passion for the written word was truly inspiring.

  Rest in peace.

  Part I

  An Unlikely Alliance

  Chapter One

  “Just because you saved my life, doesn’t mean I’m not going to take yours!” Burr lunged at the man who stood a full head taller, was wider at the shoulders, and twenty years younger than him—Veranor. He gritted his teeth, his one eye was menacing, and murder was all he thirsted for in that moment. Years of hiding and holding onto the unraveling string that was his ancestry, from those who died losing a war centuries ago, laced his heart with a yearning for vengeance. His long gray hair whipped behind him as he burst forward, eager to plunge his shining sword into the heart of his foe in the glowing moonlight.

  As he was about to thrust the sharp tip of his sword through the younger man’s chest, the air seemed to grow thin. Tiny wisps of a dancing violet haze floated up from the desert sand’s floor. As the wisps turned to a growing blaze, a thin wall of sand roared up to form a barrier between the two men—a wall of sand the older man fell into with a grunt and stumbled back with his sword still at the ready.

  “Lilaci,” Burr said. “Don’t do this. Let me at him. This is to be man versus man, right here, right now. He’s killed too many for us to forget his transgressions. He’s a mass-murderer. Through and through.”

  “Look around you,” the taller man with the pale skin said, his mean, gray eyes glancing around at the others. “You have two Scaethers in your ranks and a girl who just let loose a dragon that will kill thousands of people. You, Burr, have killed how many during your days? Evil is dependent upon which side you fight. You killed ours, we killed yours. And remember—we are no longer fighting for the Six Gods, we are all on the same side now. We aren’t fighting for Dânoz, Eyr, Fayell, Arymos or Vigolos anymore. Since we killed Gorlen we have to kill the others.”

  “Damn you, Veranor!” Demetrius Burr of the old line of the Knights of the Whiteblade cursed. “One good deed doesn’t erase all of the evil you’ve wrought in these lands. You and those before you caused all this turmoil and pain. The Arr is this way because of you.”

  “Burr,” Kera said in a soft voice, tugging at his tunic gently. “He saved us though. He saved me. Gorlen, the Witch Queen would’ve killed us—or worse by now. We wouldn’t be here without him.”

  Lilaci glared at Veranor, standing there with his stoic face. His widow’s peak reaching below his eyeline, as his brow furrowed toward Burr. I know him all too well, standing there, seemingly unphased by Burr’s threats. But he’s ready. He’d strike down one of the Knights of the Whiteblade in a second, and he’d enjoy it. At least he would have when he was still a soldier for the gods. Veranor enjoyed nothing more than killing in their name for honor.

  Part of me would enjoy watching the two battle, even to the death, simply because they are such skilled warriors with hatred in their hearts for one another. But I need both of them. I almost wish there will be a day that he gives me a reason to strike him down. I told Kera I’d let him live, but if he so much as raises a hand to her in a menacing form, I’ll gladly take my own revenge on him for taking my memories from me. He took my own mother’s face from my mind until I found Kera and she lifted his spell.

  But for now, I’ve got to calm Burr. We need to move on to form a new plan and get moving away from this slain god’s corpse.

  “Lass,” Burr said to Kera, his teeth gritting and his one good eye fixed on the commander. “You don’t know the things he’s done. You don’t know what he’s like.”

  “Not all,” she said, walking over to stand next to Veranor. “But I know he’s the one who’s been hunting me my whole life. He’s the one who’s been in charge of taking me to the gods, so they could torture and kill me. I know he’s the one who would’ve hunted you down and killed all of yours—your family. But look at him now. He’s in the same place as us now. You know what he’s thinking? He’s thinking the same thing we’ve thought our entire lives. ‘Where do we hide? Where can we live that the gods won’t find us?’”

  “Aye, Kera, he helped kill the Witch Queen. That was a feat indeed. Only one more traitorous notch on his belt. But, I can’t help but ask, and I dare any of us to answer this with any certainty—what would he do next when confronted by the gods? What decision would he make, who would he betray then? Who does Veranor serve? I dare say he serves Veranor—not Kera, not us.”

  Kera looked up at Burr, with her long black hair flowing across her pale face in the hot, desert winds. Her greyish-silver eyes hid her youth, as they showed a maturity that made the young girl resemble an older, wiser, stronger warrior. She was seemingly trying to figure out a rebuttal for Burr’s remark, but her tongue was in a knot. She look
ed over at Veranor, as the wall of sand fell back to the desert floor.

  He’s right. We don’t know. I’d like to think Kera’s survival means as much to the commander as it does to me, or Roren, or Fewn. But we have no way of knowing.

  “I stand with you,” Veranor said, reaching out and putting his hand on Kera’s back. “I am one of you now, if you’ll have me. I can make no promise you would seem to believe. But my actions will speak for me. When the time comes, I will prove my merit. I’ve lived in a broken world far too long, I see now the error in my actions. But, truth be spoken, I had no choice. I did my job, or I’d be killed. And as you can see now, there’s no going back for me. The Six—no, the Five now—would never forgive the murder of one of their own. If anything, their anger . . . and their paranoia is tenfold.”

  “The time will come,” Lilaci said, “when you’ll prove your words true Veranor. Like Burr, I’d like nothing more than for us to strike you down in cold blood right now. But Kera believes you, so I believe you. But if you dare . . .” Lilaci walked up to him with strong strides. Her face shoved up against his until their noses touched. “If you betray us, you’ll know nothing but the heat of the Eternal Fires, for I’ll gladly send you down there myself.”

  She turned and walked away, back toward Roren and Fewn who stood closer to the cave’s entrance where Kera had hatched the dragon egg.

  “You really hate him, huh?” Fewn said softly as she approached. “Can’t say I blame you. He did erase your memories of your family, and of Gogenanth.”

  Lilaci halted in her tracks, then turned back abruptly toward the commander. Again, she took solid strides toward him, and with her fists balled, white-knuckled—she sent her right fist with all her might into the commander’s temple with a crack, and Veranor staggered to his side. Not falling to a knee, but a furious fire burned in his eyes.

  “Lilaci—” Kera said.

  “That was for Gogenanth.” Lilaci spat on the sand at Veranor’s feet.

  Burr couldn’t help but let a smile rip across his face. “Well, we’ll see where this path takes us,” he said as he sheathed his sword. “This tale just got a little more twisted, now we’re walking the sands with the commander of the Scaethers himself.” He looked down at Kera again, her silver eyes and pale skin glowing in the moonlight. “I hope you’re right about him. But, you haven’t steered us wrong yet.”

  Chapter Two

  In the hazy light of the golden fire, the ring of Kera’s protectors sat in silent contemplation. Wispy, thin clouds let their long tails glide before the glowing half-moon above. A cool breeze glided along the flowing sands, as the fire crackled and popped. The travelers had much to think about that evening, and few of them yearned for sleep. Even with the fight with the Witch Queen goddess, Gorlen, behind them, a wariness loomed over the group. Perhaps they feared to fall prey to their newest member—Commander Veranor.

  Gorlen had been slain when Veranor double-crossed her, using Kera’s magic to mute the goddess’ powers, and he ran her through with his own sword. After they hatched the dragon Herradax, and they knew the true war against the gods was about to begin.

  He sat with his back straight and his legs crossed. The rest of the group sat closer to one another at the other rim of the firepit. With Kera at the center, she had Roren and Lilaci on either side of her, then next to them sat Demetrius Burr and Fewn. Lilaci placed her hand on Kera’s back and rubbed it, to warm the young girl. Kera yawned and scooted in next to Lilaci and laid her head on her lap.

  “I’m not going to sleep yet,” Kera said. “I just want to rest a little bit.”

  “That’s fine,” Lilaci said down to the girl. My heart and soul are alit again with satisfaction and love now Kera is back with me. Everything that’s happened, from Fewn taking Kera, twice now, to welcoming my old mentor into our fold, doesn’t matter to me now. I’ll trust them as much as I need to, and I may need to, with threats looming at every corner of the desert. But, she’s my true family, my true mission. I’d die before I let someone take her from me again.

  “Lilaci—” Fewn said, “what do you think the plan should be? What’s the next step for us once the sun rises?”

  Lilaci looked around the group, first she looked at Fewn, with the dark hair hanging in front of her pale face, a look she never saw back in the camp of Sorock. Indeed, Fewn has changed and grown immensely since our time as girls. She would never have left her hair undone in front of others. Perhaps it’s a sign of her resistance against the gods. Then she looked to Roren, one of the Order of Drakon that swore to protect Kera, and help the dragons return to the sands. When she first met him, he was clean-shaven, now his dark beard and hair had grown thick. His blue eyes glimmered in the firelight, he and Burr were the only ones in their party who had the normal dark skin of the people of the Arr. She looked at Burr, his one eye glaring at Lilaci as he too awaited a response to Fewn’s question.

  “We’ll find shelter,” she said. “Somewhere safe, if we’re to wage war against the gods themselves we may need to rally more to us. We need to call back the Knights of the Whiteblade, and the Order of Drakon. Surely some have seen a dragon roar through the skies once more. It’s more than that even, Herradax, the dragon Kera raised, is a symbol—a symbol that the power of the gods is waning. There will be more that will heed our call. We just need time to accrue an army.”

  “The Knights of the Whiteblade will come,” Burr said. “Aye, and our numbers will grow with a dragon at our backs.”

  “The Order of Drakon are not warriors,” Roren said. “Some are, but most are kind wanderers of the sands. They are wise, and many of them old, but they will do everything in their power to assist us, and Kera.”

  “Well,” Fewn said. “We can forget about getting more of the Scaethers in our ranks, I’m sure they’re all clambering to take up the commander’s mantle. Can you imagine the looks on all of their faces back in Sorock when they learn that their general killed Gorlen, the most wretched of the gods?” Fewn laughed. “I’d give anything to see our old teacher Elan’s face! I bet she was speechless!”

  “Where to then?” Burr asked Lilaci. “Which direction? I could take you to the last of my pack. Although I can’t guarantee his safety, nor would I want to. The rest of the knights don’t hold a pact like I do to the Dragon’s Breath, and he’s killed many of us in this lifetime.”

  “I wouldn’t care to take her out on the open sands for the time it would take to meet up with your knights,” Lilaci said. “We need to find cover, shelter even.”

  “We could go back to the cave,” Fewn said. “Save for those massive worms, its hidden, and it’s cool.”

  Lilaci seemed to ponder that statement.

  “No,” said the commander’s gruff voice in surprise. Lilaci looked up at him, as he stared back at her. His pale skin glowed light in the firelight, and his dark armor underneath his tunic glimmered. “If you wish to go to war, you can’t sit around idly waiting—hoping—for others to come help. We will need an army, a real army—not of old men who wander the desert—or a failed group of knights who haven’t fought a war in generations. We need what the knights had back in their prime, back when they fought with vigor, we need more dragons.”

  “You think me and mine can’t fight?” Burr snapped, spit flying from his lips. Fewn reached over and put her hand on his shoulder as he tried to rise, but then he sat back down. “There’s more strength and honor in one of my knights than in your whole pack of Scaethers.”

  “Burr, calm yourself,” Fewn said. “He’s just trying to goad you.”

  “And how would we go about that?” Roren demanded. “It’s taken lifetimes to release just one dragon back into the wild.”

  “That was only the beginning,” Veranor said, raising his hands up above him, looking to the sky. “Where the seed of one sapling blooms, many will follow with the right light.”

  “These aren’t damned plants we’re talking about,” Burr said, leaning forward and pointing his finger at
Veranor.

  “That’s our only chance,” Veranor said, looking at Burr, lowering his hands and leaning back. “We either find more dragons to fight at our side, or we’ll die in hiding.”

  “You know the gods better than almost anyone,” Lilaci said. “What will they be planning?”

  Veranor lowered his head, glaring into the fire’s light, seemingly in contemplation. “They will be in shock at the loss of one of their own. But their pride and thirst for power runs deep. They will work to gain a greater grip on the lands. I wouldn’t be surprised if they leave their castle of Firen-Ar and return to the cities, to grow their armies. Once they find out that Kera has the power to wipe away their magic, they won’t set foot near her. But an army of twenty-thousand, they wouldn’t hesitate to send out now.”

  “Twenty-thousand?” Fewn asked, it was hard to notice, but she was biting her lip.

  “Twenty-thousand, fifty-thousand, a hundred-thousand,” Veranor scoffed. “What’s the difference against a small group of soldiers sitting around a fire? My point is what army could we gather that would stand any chance at all against an army of the gods? We need dragons.”