Vessel of the Gods Boxed Set

by Jada Fisher

  Vessel of the Gods Boxed Set

  Rise of the Black Dragon, Books 4 - 6

  Jada Fisher

  Copyright © 2020 Fairfield Publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.

  This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Reborn

  1. Not Quite a Fantasy

  2. Trust is a Weakness

  3. Different Kinds of Strength

  4. The Path Laid Bare

  5. There’s Always a Catch

  6. The Prices They Pay

  7. The Journey Homeward

  8. Search and Rescue

  9. Common Misconception

  10. Always in a Hurry

  Vessel of the Gods

  1. New Life, New Changes

  2. How Time Flies

  3. Terrible Twos

  4. What Lies Beneath the Soil

  5. Break the Chains

  6. Throw the First Punch

  7. Crush

  8. Self Rescue

  9. Tooth and Nail

  10. Good News, Worse News

  11. Celebrate While Able

  Deception

  1. It Starts with a Bang

  2. Bedlam and Betrayal

  3. Recovery on Recovery

  4. Don’t Punish the Messenger

  5. Responsibility and Duty

  6. The Southern Lip

  7. The Show Must Go On

  8. Curtain Call

  9. Turn About is Fair Play

  10. Secrets, Secrets, all that Bite

  11. Third Time’s the Charm

  12. From the Ground Up

  Thank You

  Fantasy Reads Newsletter

  Reborn

  Rise of the Black Dragon, Book 4

  1

  Not Quite a Fantasy

  Ukrah’s butt hurt.

  No one told her that riding atop a dragon’s back for hours and hours would leave her backside feeling like she’d had her hide tanned well and good, like it hadn’t been since she was a child. By the time they finally set down, her whole lower half throbbed, and her legs shook as she clambered to the ground.

  “Ow…” she groaned, mostly to herself, only to hear Crispin share the sentiment. He had to be feeling it even more than her, considering his lanky frame and complete lack of any sort of cushioning.

  Cassinda and Athar, however, seemed to be just fine as they climbed down Ethella’s much broader back. The younger girl was completely unruffled and immediately moved to setting up a makeshift tent against a tree to roll out her bedroll.

  Ukrah couldn’t help but think back to the girl’s face the week earlier when she’d been told about the vessels. Calm, attentive, but completely unsurprised, as if everything Ukrah was saying made sense and wasn’t some random smattering of words and ideas strung together. After that, she’d been even more insistent on riding along.

  And, as Ukrah watched her move matter-of-factly through the field they had set down in, she couldn’t help but think that having the redhead there could only be a good thing. Even if she was a little…peculiar.

  Or maybe she wasn’t actually peculiar at all. Maybe Ukrah’s understanding of what was normal and what wasn’t was still a little shaky. Either way, the quiet, intense girl was along for the ride.

  Although, Ukrah wasn’t exactly sure where they were riding.

  She did know that she was supposed to be able to focus, concentrating on her energy so she could lead them to the other vessels she sensed, but they had a different stop first. Athar had mentioned something about a city and some sort of…of…gossip vines? She wasn’t quite solid on what he had meant by that, and Tayir had offered no explanation.

  In fact, Tayir hadn’t said much at all lately, other than advising her on what to bring for their journey.

  “You, Crispin, gather enough kindling and sticks for a fire. Try to make sure th-they’re dry.” Athar gave the order casually, but the two of them hopped to it, scrounging around the field and the edge of trees to the west.

  It was very strange, if Ukrah actually slowed down to think of what was happening. Not too long ago, she had been going through her routine at the Dragon Riders Academy, and not too much before that, she’d been one of the orphans of her tribe, filling in for odd jobs and learning as best she could without a direct family. It felt like her life kept flipping over anytime she started to get steady.

  Maybe one of these days, it would flip over to something actually nice.

  “Hey, Ukrah! Look at this!”

  She turned to see that Crispin had found a little twig shaped like a wishbone and placed it between his lips and nose, scrunching his face so that it stayed without his hands touching it.

  “Who do I look like?”

  “Professor Jonaton?” she said with a troubled sigh despite how amused she was.

  “You got it!”

  Alright, maybe there were some parts of her life that were nice, that she would never want to give up, but there were certainly parts she could do without.

  Like the rumbling, unsteady power growing within her, making it so that she didn’t know where she ended and it began. She was a vessel. She understood that on a basic level, but there was still so much that she didn’t understand. Was she going to have this power in her forever? What happened if she found all of the vessels? What happened if she was killed?

  It all seemed too much for a girl of fifteen years to handle, and yet that was supposedly what she was doing.

  Handling it.

  …sort of.

  They both filled their arms with branches and twigs and large chunks of bark before heading back to the circle. Ukrah was more than familiar with building fires, but she was still getting used to the different sorts of circumstances folks in the civilized lands had to deal with.

  For example, it seemed that often things were wet. Or ‘damp,’ as Ukrah had been told. In the desert, she’d only had to worry about maximizing the efficiency of materials. But in the land of Rothaiche M’or and Baeldred, there were plenty of supplies. Those supplies were just usually covered in dew or rain or any other form of water that made things difficult.

  So naturally, she sat and watched as Athar expertly made the fire. It was fairly large, as far as campfires went, but she supposed it was to last them through dinner and the night. It was unlikely that anyone would attack them with two dragons in their party, so they didn’t have to worry about others seeing smoke. Might as well be nice and toasty all night long.

  Once it was all built, he gave a look to Fior, who was laying there and looking over his shoulder like he was trying to see all the way back home. Ukrah felt bad that he was separated from Eist, but she was grateful for his presence.

  She’d heard stories of how dragon and rider were hardly ever separated, and that being apart could be physically painful for both. She figured Eist wouldn’t have told him to carry Ukrah along if it was going to endanger her or the baby growing inside of her, but she still couldn’t help but worry.

  She was always worried.

  Fior was oblivious to her fretting, however, and just let out the faintest of whistles as he turned to the structure of sticks, very small logs, and twigs.

  A thin stream of fire flashed out, almost too quick to see, and the collection of wood blazed to life. Voirdr chirped happily in her lap, his ever-growing wings flaring with excitement.

  Huh. It seemed all the time she had spent learning about the peculiarities of building a good blaze were going to be next to useless with a black dragon by her side.

 
; “Thanks, old friend,” Athar said, leaning over to rub the top of Fior’s shovel-like head before grabbing one of his packs. As he went about preparing the food, Ukrah couldn’t help but let her mind wander. They were on a journey that was the stuff of legends, but she didn’t exactly feel legendary. Would she ever? Most of the time she felt like a very little girl who had been caught up in too many things she didn’t understand.

  I can hear you thinking from here.

  “Aw, come on, leave her off it,” Crispin muttered, sitting next to her. “It’s been a long day.”

  This? A long day? This is nothing compared to how she got here.

  “Yeah, but Ukrah doesn’t really like to talk about that, so let’s not.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Cassinda asked, settling down beside them with grace that the desert girl just didn’t possess.

  “Just Ukrah,” Crispin said quickly.

  “Really? To me, it almost seems like you’re talking to the bird.”

  Tayir looked to the girl, his little head tilting. Please tell me that there’s not another one of you that understands me. My communications with vessels are supposed to be sacred, you know.

  “He’s got quite the little attitude, doesn’t he?” the girl asked, her voice as level as ever.

  Ukrah looked uncertainly over the girl’s features, trying to figure out exactly what she meant. “Do you… Do you understand him?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I… Nothing. But yeah, he’s a snarky little thing.”

  “I sensed as much.”

  The conversation stilted a bit after that, but then the food was ready, and they were ripping into it with enthusiasm. Ukrah had definitely been spoiled by too much food too often, because her stomach was pinching from only eating a ration that morning. For all the scary things looming on the horizon, she sure had let herself get soft.

  How unfortunate.

  Night fell soon after that and then they were sliding into their bedrolls. Voirdr was curled up against Ukrah’s front while Fior was circled around the three young ones, his wing over them like a blanket. She felt so secure, especially with Athar in the tent next to them and Ethella on the other side. Despite being away from the manor, she didn’t feel like she was in danger.

  At least…not yet.

  It was another day’s ride to get to the city where Athar needed to touch base with his contacts, and they arrived just as the sun was setting, turning the sky an ombre mix of oranges, blues, and purples. It really was pretty, but Ukrah felt a shiver of apprehension up her spine.

  “So, where are we going?” Crispin asked, stretching and making his back pop all the way up. Ukrah responded by cracking her neck and fingers, leaving Athar shuddering.

  “Would you all stop that? It’s disgusting.”

  “I heard that you once ripped off a man’s arm with your teeth,” Crispin said idly. “Are you telling me you’re grossed out by a few crackles?”

  Athar’s eyes went wide. “A man’s arm with my teeth? Why would I—” He paused, then rubbed his chin. “Ah. Eist once bit off a man’s finger in the heat of battle. That’s probably where it came from.”

  “I’m sorry, she what?” Ukrah asked.

  But Athar was already striding away, seemingly satisfied. Ukrah knew that the god-woman’s life was intense and full of stories, but she’d never thought about the woman literally biting a man’s finger off. Also, what was a man’s hand doing that close to her mouth?

  Ukrah shuddered at the thought and instead turned her attention to the small city around them. She’d never been in one aside from the city of Rothaiche M’or, so it would do her well to try to observe.

  Everything was smaller than Rothaiche M’or, reminding her of the slum area, never growing bigger. Perhaps her perspective of what the civilized world was like was just a little bit skewed, as well.

  Ducking her head down, she kept quiet as they walked along. While she saw the occasional Margaidian, almost everyone looked to be native, making her stick out a bit like a sore thumb.

  At least she had a sun scarf over her head, tucked partially into her hair to obscure her face, and long riding gloves. They hadn’t been intended to disguise her, just to protect her from the sun on her first long dragon ride, but she wasn’t upset about the surprise benefit.

  She wasn’t sure where they were going, expecting an inn or something like Braddock’s tavern, but instead they walked toward a building that looked suspiciously like a church.

  Ukrah wasn’t sure how she knew that. It wasn’t like she had ever been to a holy place in the civilized lands, and yet that was the distinct impression she got as they neared it.

  She couldn’t help but balk slightly, her mind going back to her and Crispin’s nameday celebration. Was this somehow a trap? Was Athar betra—

  Well, no. That was the silliest thing she had ever thought. Athar would as soon as stop breathing before he did anything to possibly hurt his wife or go against her wishes.

  “You alright?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at her. She licked her lips, eyes flicking toward the building, and he seemed to understand. “Don’t worry. It’s safe.”

  “If you say so,” Crispin muttered. “But that’s definitely a Truth of the Three building if there ever was one.”

  “Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight.”

  Cassinda, however, just kept striding forward calmly. “Come, we are wasting time.”

  Ukrah wanted to snap at the girl, but she and Athar were already walking again.

  Swallowing, she hurried after them, Crispin coming up along beside her, his free hand intertwining with hers. His other arm was holding Voirdr, who was sleeping peacefully, his red head tucked into the crook of Crispin’s neck. The black was creeping along the edges of his scales, and she wondered if, when he reached his first great shed, he’d turn completely obsidian, or if it was going to come in waves throughout his maturity.

  She wished she could ask Elspeth, but she supposed there were more important things at stake at the moment.

  Surely enough, a moment or so later, they were stepping into the church and Ukrah felt her tension mount. But instead of religious iconography or a cult or anything of the sort, there was what looked like a larger version of Eist’s planning room.

  A man stood up, his hair silver and an eyepatch a stark black against his pale face. He smiled broadly, striding forward to grip Athar’s arm.

  “Lord W’allenhaus. I haven’t seen you in a great while.”

  “Yeah, we’ve been occupied. You know how th-things are.”

  “Annoyingly political?” he said with a huff, looking from Athar to the rest of his company. “You’d think we were back in the times before the Blight, when everyone was trying to deny that it existed. I thought we’d be through with that during our reconstruction, but it’s just gotten worse.”

  “You know how it is. When a great power leaves…”

  The silver-haired man waved his hand. “Yeah, yeah, others rush to fill it. Save me the lecture, I’m living it. So, what brings you back to our little edge of civilization? Last I heard, we don’t have any slaver ports or spots of violence to save the common people from.”

  “Actually, that’s why I’m here. Right now, there is an active slaver line coming through what’s supposed to be your territory.”

  The man straightened. “What? I assure you, we’ve been vigilant—”

  “You flew over us,” Ukrah said, blurting out words while her mind flashed back to those days not too long ago. “Or at least some of your riders did. They were hiding in an old…farm maybe? Some place with lots of room for horses.” She licked her lips, her mind suddenly full of everything that had happened since then. “We burned them down, but I’m sure they’ve found a new place to house their wares. They had quite a few interested parties there.”

  “You’re kidding. That was you? I remember that blaze. Took out a good chunk of the forest to the west. We were aware of those
old stables, but we’d scouted them several times. They were safe.” His remaining eye narrowed as he looked over Ukrah. “You said ‘us.’ You were one of their slaves?”

  “I was someone they kidnapped, yes.”

  “Hmm. Good on you getting out then.” He looked to Athar. “To be honest, I’ve been running a lot of scouting and replenish missions up north. You’d be better with Di’nira and Lokus. They’ve been helping any runaways and doing a lot of the patrolling out that area.”

  “Alright. And where are they?”

  “Out hunting, last I knew. Rations tend to be a little scarce around here, so they usually try to bring the town back some meat if they can.”

  “Ration lines choked by bandits?”

  “Not that as much anymore, but you know how far we are from the capital. A lot of the times, the best stuff has been picked over and bought by closer places before it gets here. The ground’s still recovering from a lot that happened with the Blight, doesn’t produce much.”

  Athar nodded. “When we get back, I’ll see if I can get some sort of direct line of provisions to these people.”

  “From your mouths to the gods’—” The man paused, seeming to think. “Huh, we don’t really have gods anymore, do we? Guess I’m back to swearing on my mother’s grave.”

  “If I recall right, your mother was cremated in Baeldred tradition.”

  “Exactly.”