“I need you to focus,” Marge complained. “I know this is difficult, but we all went through transformations the other night.”
The other night. It was in her mind somewhere, but she couldn’t access it. Something had happened. There was the light of the constant moon shimmering down. Then a surge of power.
Violet gasped. “The dragon,” she muttered, remaining in place on the bed. “I awoke the sleeping beast.”
“Yes,” Marge agreed. “Although, I’m pretty sure I helped with that. What else do you remember?”
“Jasper!” Violet bolted up. “Where is he?”
“He’s gone,” Marge replied. “He’s a Dragon Lord now... a mortal enemy of mages. He ran off.”
“He left?” Violet questioned, brow creased.
“He took the spirit of the dragon inside him,” Marge explained. “He controls a beast capable of great destruction.”
“Why would he do that?” Violet asked.
Marge sighed. “He probably had noble intentions... saving my life and stopping his uncle from taking control of the dragon.” She sat on the bed. “It doesn’t change anything. He’s consumed by the power of the dragons. They may call themselves Dragon Lords, but they bend to the will of the beasts. It’s much the same as mortals and cats.”
“He’s still there, though,” Violet argued. “It’s still Jasper inside his body.”
“Buried deep,” Marge conceded. “That doesn’t mean you can reach him. I’m afraid no one can.”
“He saved my life,” Violet said. “I need to try to save him. There has to be a way.” She tossed the down-filled duvet aside. Her feet never touched the floor. A spinning room sent her flopping backward.
“You aren’t ready,” Marge huffed. “You’ll need all your memories before you can save so much as a fly.”
“What do you mean?” Violet asked, taking in short breaths to avoid throwing up. “I remember.”
“This life,” Marge commented. “What about before that? Do you remember any magic?”
“I don’t understand,” Violet complained.
“You will soon,” Marge advised. “You need to rest until it all comes back. That night in the circle, you awoke more than just the sleeping dragon. You unlocked the memories of our past lives as well. I was your matron.”
Violet, shifted to the other side. “How can you be sure? Why do you remember and I don’t?”
“You have been unconscious for several weeks,” Marge explained. “I’ve had that time to process things. It’ll come back to you as well. Until then, we stay put. There’s a whole new future waiting to unfold. You’re going to play a big part in what happens to mankind. We need to make sure you are up to the task before we start.”
Violet nodded, closing her eyes to a vision of Jasper’s face with his goofy grin and playful wink. His mouth opened, razor-sharp teeth biting into her flesh. She gasped. Marge was right. It was going to take time before she handled any more. One day, though, she was going to save him, no matter what it took. One day, she’d set things right and save the world.
About the Author
C.A. King is the recipient of several awards, including: The Hamilton Spectator Readers' Choice Award for 2017, 2018 & 2019 in the Best Local Author category; The Brant News Readers' Choice Award for 2017 Best Local Author; Readers' Favorite award in the short story/novella category; the 2017 SIBA Award for Best New Adult; the 2017 SIBA Award for Best Novella; 2018 Readers' Favorite International Book Awards: Gold Medal in the Fiction—Supernatural genre; 2018 Readers' Favorite International Book Awards: Bronze Medal in the Fiction - New Adult genre; 2019 Readers’ Favorite International Book Awards: Gold Medal in the Fiction – Supernatural genre; and 2019 Readers’ Favorite International Book Awards: Gold Medal in the Young Adult – Fantasy – Urban Genre.
Currently residing in Brantford, Ontario Canada, she lives with her two sons. She began her writing career after the tragic loss of her parents and husband. Redirecting her emotions through writing became therapeutic in her battle with depression and in 2014 she decided to publish some of her works.
Stay in touch with the author.
C.A. King’s Website
Dragonsworn Guardian
Sheri-Lynn Marean
Dragonsworn Guardian© 2020 Sheri-Lynn Marean
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
For Oliver, my smart, witty, curious, adventurous heart of gold.
I wish to thank Justine Beltrame, Christine Works, Athena Lee Brown, along with my wonderful ARC team, and my fantastic PA Barbara Shuler, and VA Mindy Seal.
Name Pronunciations
Caro = Care oh.
Celtylight = Kelt ee light.
Daimon = Day mon.
Elan = E lawn.
Grundlewen = Grund el when.
Isla = Eye-La.
Irod = Eye rod.
Irum = Eye rum.
Kalesai = Kall es eye.
Moordark = Moore dark.
Rhapaskiru = Rhap ah skeer ou.
Tartaria = Tar tare e ah.
Vassis = Vase is.
Chapter 1
War Room
Irum bent his lean, seven-foot frame and bowed low before the much smaller female before him. "My queen, I await your command."
Instead of the pale brown leather garb of her warriors, his queen was dressed in black leather armor. It accented her bright-red demon-skin and covered most of her swirling golden glyphs. A head adorned with shiny, dainty golden horns, bent over the miniature realm of Kalesia spread out on the table in front of her. She studied the three-dimensional map for a long moment, then turned glittering black eyes with gold striations upon him. "Irum, you are to go now and prepare your troop. I will open the portal to Tartaria in one hour."
"And your instructions regarding what we seek?"
"Attempt to speak with the Ilyium queen first, but if she doesn't cooperate, then use whatever means to bring me those with spell-casting ability."
"What of the dragon sentinels?" he asked. The last time he and his brethren had ventured into the fifty-two realms in search of compatible humans as breed mates, they'd been severely warned of the consequences of doing so again. Of course, that had more to do with their methods than anything else.
"Dragonkind and the Ilyium have no love for each other." Her gaze turned hard. Cold. "I do not expect trouble, but be what may, if it finds us, we will be waiting. We may no longer have our own magic, or witch magic, but we are strong in our own right. We will not cower before them ever again." She moved a piece on the board. "I want the strongest witches you can find, male or female, youths, even children, it matters not. In fact, children will be more manageable and easier to train, so concentrate on them. Plus, they can serve a dual purpose as breed mate when they become old enough."
Chapter 2
Kalesai
Though only eighteen years of age, Daimon's protective nature and sense of fairness—of right and wrong—was deeply ingrained in him. Even if he hadn't grown up among a large family whose sole duty it was to keep the innocent safe, to be honorable and respectful—even to the land they lived upon—he'd have still known all this. He was Dragonkind. They were guardians—protectors.
So when he saw th
e tall, red-skinned, black-horned Irod demon dart toward the imploding portal, carrying two Ilyium children, Daimon had no thought beyond saving them from the monster.
He drew on the beast within him as he dove headlong through the dimensional gateway. The horrified voices of his father and brother calling him back echoed in his ears, and Daimon quickly realized his mistake.
The portal's blinding white light—elemental particles from beyond the fifty-two realms—felt like millions of tiny little needles, stinging as they struck, tentacles sinking deep in an attempt to absorb every last molecule of him.
Though always quick at shifting into his other form, urgency had Daimon's midnight dragon exploding through him until he was a giant, black-scaled, winged creature. But the combination of his own ancient energy—that of all dragonkind who came before him—and the portal magic, propelled him through the dying gate on lightning bolts of pure sizzling magic.
Whole body electrified, Daimon emerged into a massive, high-ceilinged cavern with bright red rock walls that were covered in golden glyphs. Upon sight of him, a shout arose from a group of Irod warriors. A high-pitched droning tingled in the air, and Daimon could feel it reaching for him—a net seeking to contain him.
With the strange sizzling portal energy turning him inside out, Daimon drew on all his years of ducking and dodging his siblings while at play, to now try and escape the Irod magic also pulling at him.
He almost had it beat, when his body seized.
Panic claimed him as the red cobbled floor came at him fast. Too fast.
This couldn't be happening. As he was about to do a very spectacular face-plant in front of enemy demons, his power leveled out. Daimon loosed a roar that sounded pathetic to even his ears, and drew hard on the energy fighting for dominance inside of him. It reacted to his pull with a mighty surge, and he kicked off the ground.
The Irod containment magic fell away, but he wasn't quite fast enough. He skimmed the cobblestones with his chin scales before finally gaining the needed altitude.
It wasn't much, but it did enable him to sweep over the demon he'd been chasing with an inch to spare.
He let out a sigh, then realized his relief was premature as an electrical whiplash blasted outward from the portal.
It tossed him like a weightless twig up against a rough rock wall covered in pulsating golden glyphs.
Invisible tentacles tightened once again around him, while the high-pitched droning clouded his brain.
Daimon shook his head, and then used the strange power coursing through him to push the annoyance away. He struggled to his feet, feeling like all thirty-two of his siblings had piled on top of him and decided to spend the night sleeping there.
As the Irod demons—who looked like they felt the same way—picked themselves up off the ground, a loud cry reverberated throughout the domed room.
The Irod turned horrified gazes upon someone who hadn't regained their feet.
Daimon couldn't see who they were crouched over, and really didn't care—his eyes were instead riveted to the spot where the portal had been.
Despair rocked him. The Ilyium's spelled bomb—the one he'd been tasked with throwing into the portal to shut it down—mere moments before he followed the demon and his captives through, had worked. His only way back home no longer existed.
Beside him, magic imbued symbols along the walls pulsed, flickered, and died out.
The demon he'd chased into this realm called out to his brethren. "Four of you, take our queen to her chamber and get the healer. The rest of you, capture the dragon!"
Queen? Four demons picked up what was clearly a female and began to carry her away.
Daimon remembered hearing his father say something about how when they blew the portal it would drain the Irod queen's energy. Obviously this was her.
The glyphs going dark made sense now as well. She'd be the one powering everything.
The second group raced toward him, long deadly spears in hand, and Daimon spewed dragon-fire at them.
He might be stranded in a strange world, but he wasn't about to let the Irod capture him. And if nothing else, he could at least rescue the two kids the Irod had kidnapped—his whole reason for losing his mind and chasing them here in the first place.
The warriors dodged the deadly flames and divided up in an attempt to get at him.
Daimon roared, letting lose all his rage and fear, then he charged the one holding the two—now struggling—Ilyium children.
The Irod male backed up as Daimon drew close, then suddenly yelped and stumbled, dropping his captives.
Daimon could see strands of pink magic racing up the demon's arms, and smiled inwardly. As witches, the children weren't exactly defenseless. He blew a plume of fire directed solely at the demon and as the tall male fell back, Daimon snatched the two captives up in his talons.
He rose into the air, then faltered when the sizzling energy shook his body, turning his scales incandescent, then black again.
Not now, not now! He muttered silently to the strange energy. It settled and he circled around, looking for an exit.
He found a wide tunnel and sped down it in search of a door leading out of the place, hoping that when he found one, he'd be able to fit through it in his dragon form. All he found were more tunnels and rooms, some big and some small. But everywhere he looked there were demons. He'd only seen the tall demons, so it was a bit of a surprise to realize that not all the Irod were tall. In fact, most of the civilians appeared to be on par with humans in size. As he flew by, they all cringed or fell to the ground. Daimon kept going, noting that they seemed to be ascending upward.
He caught the scent of fresh air and turned, taking an even narrower tunnel, his wings almost scraping the sides. But up ahead he could see light, and it drove him on.
Daimon could see the magical shield up ahead but was going too fast to stop.
They were going to crash.
Then it dissolved, and it took a moment for him to realize that one of the witch twins he carried had dealt with the thing. He’d have to remember to thank them.
Daimon burst out of the opening, scattering another group of Irod, and shot into the sky. He kept on going until they were high in the air.
He cruised over what had once likely been a stunning metropolis but was now a ravaged city.
Chapter 3
Mutant Flappy-Flappies
Though he couldn't help but wonder what had happened here, Daimon just wanted to put space between him and the demons. Underneath the city was a warren, and obviously where the Irod now lived.
But outside, massive blackened walls rose at least five hundred feet high. They circled the devastation, and as he passed overhead, Daimon could see where something was eating at the top of it. He swooped down to get a better look, and noticed a bright neon green substance climbing up the outside. Far below was a swiftly flowing river.
An arrow flew past him, then another, and another, until one lodged finally in his side, just under a scale. It didn't hurt, but it was an irritation. More arrows rained down over him.
Daimon drew on his invisibility, but with the portal energy messing with him, it just flickered on and off, so he picked up speed and climbed high into the sky.
He flew hard and fast, following the river, until satisfied he'd flown far enough away. Then he finally relaxed and took a good look around.
The realm of Kalesia was upon first appearance stunning, but the further he flew, the stranger it got, until finally a deep dread took hold.
The land was intersected with rivers and lakes of various sizes, and lots of little islands everywhere.
But soon he left the water and islands behind and the land grew drier. In the distance he spotted large mounds with prickly ridges atop them.
Daimon could see two moons slowly climbing high into the sky, which meant that come night, it would get very cold. And that time was rapidly approaching as the realm's single sun began its descent. But at the moment, the sky was filled
with soft, warm colors, broken up by vivid streaks of deep red, pink, and purple.
He neared the mounds and realized they were much larger than he had first thought. The jagged golden spikes that ridged them, glinted like sparkling jewels in the sunlight. He circled around. There was something about the formations that tickled his brain.
Then it came to him. It looked like giant petrified serpents with spikes growing out of their backs as they curved and twisted.
All of a sudden, the land fell away into a vast network of canyons.
Daimon dropped down and followed the largest corridors he could find, noting the towering rock walls were pockmarked with what appeared to be caves, most on ground level, but not all.
It took a few minutes, but the canyon finally opened up, and spread out in front of them were acres of fields. Most were a deep purple in color, though some were blue.
Then he spotted neat rows of crops, in all the colors of the rainbow.
Except, the crops seemed to be interspersed with blotches of the same shimmering neon green that had covered the Irod city walls. As he flew over the goopy liquid, he wanted to gag at the foul stench.
He'd had enough of that, and remembering the children clutched in his talons, flew back and along one of the rock walls.
A sound of laughter caught his attention, and he chose another path between the towering cliffs, until he rounded a corner and spotted children playing down on the ground.
Some were red-skinned, with black, brown, or white horns upon their heads, and others were human.
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