Dragon Dreams (The Chronicles of Shadow and Light) Book 1

by Dusty Lynn Holloway

  He doesn’t just want to annihilate the other dragons; he wants to exterminate Terradin itself.

  I used to think that it was all too far away to worry over. A distant fighting in a distant land. Until they came for me. And then the fight got personal for all of us.

  Oh Teresa, I’m fighting on the wrong side! How are those we fight against to win? And, oh, how I want them to win. . . I fight because I must. But in the end, I hope that I and all those who have quickly become my brothers are defeated. I hope that we are slaughtered. I hope that we can never again be the sharp edge of the sword in this war.

  It is with that hope that I seal this letter, never to be sent or to see the light of day again. I also seal away my love for you and Maddy in here. The paper should fairly drip with it, my love. I will miss you and love you for always.

  All my love, Syreth

  Liran looked through the rest of the letters, scanning them with quick, sweeping flashes of his eyes. “These all say similar things,” he said. “Beatings, torture, threats against family and homes.” He looked down at one letter in particular. It was held carefully in his hands as though he were protecting it. “They all wanted out. Wanted to be killed so that they couldn’t be used.”

  Dhurmic looked disgusted. “Why didna they just fight their way out then? They could have gone down fight’n the enemy instead of us!”

  Liran looked up from the letter he was scanning and over at Dhurmic. His eyes were cold. “Threats against their families perhaps? Torture. Many of those we fought today were young, little more than scared children. Have some compassion for the fallen, dwarf.”

  Dhurmic scowled then picked up a letter at random and started reading. They all did the same, each of them working through the stack in silence. The “done” pile grew larger, the other smaller. Until, finally, only Liran held up a letter: the final one. They all looked at him, drawn into his lit, blazing eyes. His voice was a throaty rasp, tight with unnamed emotion. Compassion? Pity? Maybe all of these. He started to read.

  Brother-

  Unlike the others that I am surrounded by, I haven’t given up. We are forced into inhumanity, but really they are only giving us a weapon to use against them. A powerful weapon: our hatred. There is not a person who shares this small room with me who doesn’t hate. We hate being pawns. We hate this war. We hate—perhaps most of all—ourselves for being so weak.

  I am tired of hating myself. Tired of feeling this pain. It ends tonight. I refuse. I haven’t given up because I’m not going down without a fight. I and a few of the others are going to try to take over the ship tonight. We know we won’t succeed. The captains and leaders of this ship have far too great a hold upon the minds and wills of those who sleep in tortured dreams beside me. But I cannot sleep. It’s almost time. . . I shall not see you again, brother. But even if I had the chance to, I never would have been able to again look you in the eyes. Fear is a strange thing. It claws at your insides, your sanity, and wipes away the person you used to be. I will not be a pawn anymore. I will not lay down in fear anymore. I will not continue to fight against those I should be fighting for. I will never surrender.

  Your brother forever, David

  Liran looked up from the letter at all of them then he folded it and slid it carefully back into the envelope. Auri was crying. Deep, clear tears that ran down her beautiful face. Dhurmic was staring at the bed in silence. Only Nachal met Liran’s eyes when they looked up again. A look passed between them. A wary acknowledgment. It was unclear what the elf knew, but Nachal saw that it didn’t matter. He knew enough.

  Are you reading my mind? he thought intently, his eyes burning into golden-amber.

  A slight nod.

  They will come for her. These armies that are amassing, they will come for her.

  The brilliantly lit eyes closed in tormented pain.

  Chapter Thirteen- Defense of the Isle

  Several days later, Nachal sat in a creaking chair in the captain’s cabin, listening to his report on the dismal state of things. Auri and Liran were seated close to each other, Dhurmic was sprawled somewhere in the middle, and the captain was sitting stiffly behind his desk.

  The captain’s grave voice broke through the tense silence that had descended. “We’ve lost eighteen men,” he said harshly. The lines of his face were nearly jagged in his sorrow. “Eighteen men with families at home waiting for them. Obsidian’s armies are all over the place now, nearly impossible to avoid.”

  “Not impossible yet,” Liran said quietly. “It can still be done.”

  The captain nodded, a concise jerk of his head. He glared at the ceiling, his thumb rubbing endlessly against a translucent, pale pink stone that Nachal noticed he carried around with him all the time. “In the open seas, yes, still possible. But to go into any port right now is like asking to get massacred. He has all of the ports locked up tight. No supplies at all are coming in. That means no food, weapons, anything.”

  Nachal spoke up. “You speak as if this is your war and not just the dragons’ war.”

  The captain looked over at him, his glare transferring to Nachal’s face. “Do you think I’m lacking in intelligence, boy? I’ve read those letters you brought me. This war is all of ours. If it isn’t now then it very soon will be.”

  Liran shifted. His eyes lit slightly as he stared past the closed door as though he was looking through it. “Neither Obsidian nor any of his ships will be where you’re taking us,” he said as he closed his eyes. “In fact. . .” Without finishing his sentence, he got up and left them, moving so swiftly that the air swished slightly at his passing.

  The captain stared after him confusion; Dhurmic stared after him in disgust. Dhurmic seemed to lack any affinity whatsoever for elves, and any patience for their peculiar ways. Both Nachal and Auri stood then moved at nearly the same moment toward the doorway. But before they had even cleared it, something slammed into the ship, sending it scuttling, spinning along the top of the water several hundred yards.

  Nachal floundered in the doorway as the ship spun, trying to grab something to anchor him. Auri, who was ahead of him, crashed into him when the ship suddenly started spinning in the opposite direction. He grabbed her hand, and pulled her to him before she could slide down the suddenly vertical deck. With his other hand, he made a quick swipe for the frame of the door.

  Everything not nailed down slid perilously fast toward the deck rails that were now positioned below them, and then went overboard. He looked down at the churning water, at least thirty feet below him, and tried to keep his grip on both Auri and the doorframe.

  Dhurmic slammed into the wall right next to them, grunting loudly. The captain had been trying to hold on to something, but then the something moved, slamming into the wall to Nachal’s left, and the captain followed. He grunted as he slammed into what turned out to be his desk, and then clutched it as the ship started spinning again.

  Nachal closed his eyes, trying not to throw up. It felt like they were in some kind of crazy whirlpool. His hands started to slip from the doorframe. As he lost his grip, he clutched Auri’s hand tighter, and glanced frantically up toward the captain’s door that he was quickly sliding down the deck away from.

  Dhurmic was shouting something, his face popped into view briefly, but Nachal couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t hear anything except for the sound of the ship splintering apart. He and Auri slid onto the main deck, rolling and crashing into various pieces of flying debris.

  The ship got tossed again, literally, and for a few seconds they—the ship and all of the people on it—were airborne. They finally stopped flying over the waves and landed back in the water with a crash that sounded like a tidal wave hitting the deck. Nachal and Auri both hit the rail. Hard. Blackness edged his vision, but he shook it off, turning to Auri in dazed panic. “Are you alright?”

  She was unconscious, lying face down on the deck.

  “Auri!” he yelled frantically, crawling over broken, shattered debris to get to her.
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  Before he reached her, Liran was suddenly there. He crouched down and picked her up. “Sorry,” he rasped quietly. “The dragon’s sense of smell should pick up on the wolf soon. It was necessary.”

  “Wait. What? What are you talking about?”

  “You’ll see.” He gathered Auri closer to his chest, and walked over to the opposite railing. Nachal groaned. He was getting really tired of those words.

  “Is she going to be alright?” he called to him.

  “She’s going to have a headache.”

  Nachal rubbed the spot on the back of his head where a pulsing pain was throbbing vividly. “I know I’ll have one,” he muttered, hauling himself slowly to his feet. He glanced around him at the deep mists clogging the air. They were suddenly so thick that he couldn’t even see ten feet in front of him. He remembered then the men who had been thrown overboard along with all of the boxes and ropes on the deck. He ran to the railing next to Liran and Auri, and looked down into the churning mass of water below. Dhurmic, grumbling and rubbing various bruised parts of his body, came to stand beside them.

  “Do you see anyone?” Nachal asked anxiously.

  “Nay,” the dwarf replied, squinting down toward the water. “The mists be too thick.”

  “Don’t worry about them. They’re all safe and are swimming toward the ladder on the prow of the ship,” Liran said. He had set Auri gently down, and was smoothing the wild, tangled hair from around her face with tender hands.

  “I tried to protect her head,” Nachal said, crouching down next to her. “But I lost all sense of up and down.”

  “You did well up until the last spinning.”

  Nachal looked at him. “In my head again?” And then something clicked. “Wait. Did you say wolf?”

  And in that impossibly grim moment, he saw the elf almost smile. “Yes. But that was several minutes ago. He has now caught up with me, and is standing right behind you.”

  Nachal spun in his crouch, and then scuttled backward as a very large, very lethal white wolf glared at him. He blinked. He didn’t think wolves could glare. Could they? “Umm, nice wolf,” he said inanely. Liran actually chuckled.

  Nachal was still eying the wolf that was staring him down when a long, sinuous, bluish-grey dragon head rose out of the mist beside the ship, and towered over them. He looked up and felt his jaw go slack.

  A sea dragon.

  He felt the panic hit the ship at the same time that it hit him. He stood quickly, drawing his sword. The crew were suddenly shouting and going for their weapons as well. A bell rang, calling all available crew to arms. The captain, looking slightly cross-eyed and groggy, staggered out onto the deck. He saw the head of the dragon, and started yelling for the crew, trying to pull his sword out of its sheath with suddenly clumsy fingers.

  Liran took one step forward, and raised his hands up sharply, palms outward. “STOP!” he bellowed, his raspy voice ringing with authority. Everyone stopped, some in the act of drawing weapons, and looked up in surprise. The silence on the deck was absolute. Nachal wanted to close his eyes in pain. Yelling was not good for him at the moment. “This dragon is the defense of my homeland,” Liran said in a quieter voice. “He will not harm us now that he knows there are elves aboard.”

  Nachal stumbled back a few steps, his neck tilted upward so that he could see the dragon’s face. It was the face of a normal dragon, except smaller and a bit more angled in at the jaws. There was one major difference though. This dragon had eyes that were an opaque milky-white.

  The sea dragon was blind.

  He looked down past the railing into the water and saw its huge body treading water in the frothy, churned up sea. It was massive, about the size of a large whale. It was the same blue-grey color all over, and it had webbed wings that were held tightly against the main portion of its body. Its feet were webbed as well.

  With its serpentine neck—which was easily fifteen feet long—it moved closer to the wolf, and inhaled deeply along his fur. “Thou hast been far from home,” the ancient dragon voice rumbled. The wolf whined in seeming agreement, and the dragon chuckled. “Though perhaps not of thy choosing.”

  Its head snaked away, and came to stop before Liran. Liran dipped his head respectfully. “Drashmere.”

  “Liran,” the dragon acknowledged, its head dipping slightly as well. “Welcome home, young one.”

  “Thank you.”

  The head then snaked toward Dhurmic, and Dhurmic backed up a pace, reaching behind him for an axe that wasn’t there. He growled again and scowled, holding his bare hands up in front of him like a shield. The dragon snorted at this ineffectual display. Hot steam blew around Dhurmic’s head, making his face red and dewy, and his hair and beard seize up into instant curls. Nachal bit the inside of his cheek to contain his smile.

  “A dwarf,” the ancient voice said in surprise. “I so rarely see thy kind upon my waters. Thou must be mighty in courage.” Dhurmic dropped his hands and stood a little taller. His chin rose. Nachal rolled his eyes and snorted aloud.

  The head swiveled and then moved quickly toward him. “Thou dost not agree with my assessment?” the voice rumbled in amusement. The dragon’s completely white eyes stared straight through him. Nachal swallowed.

  “He has plenty of courage,” he said in agreement. “It’s just what he chooses to do with that courage that often gets him into trouble.”

  The dragon chuckled again then moved in closer to him and inhaled deeply. “I know thy smell, young one,” he whispered close to Nachal’s ear. “Thou hast the smell of my old friend Cerralys about thee. He is well?”

  Nachal floundered in shock for a moment. Cerralys? This creature knew Cerralys? Then he shook his head grimly. Perhaps he should have been surprised but he just wasn’t. It made perfect sense that the two were acquainted with each other. He forced his words past the sudden tightness in his throat. “He is. . .” What? What could he say? That he was fine? He struggled for the right words but could find nothing. The creature seemed to understand. He dipped his long neck down until his head was right over Nachal’s chest.

  “Clear away the cloth, young one,” he said calmly. Nachal looked up at the dragon’s face for a moment then reached down and lifted his shirt up. The mist that surrounded them chilled his suddenly bare flesh until the snout of the dragon came down, touching the exposed skin of his chest, right over his heart. He flinched slightly then held steady and closed his eyes. The snout was warm. Nachal had expected cold, but it was very, very warm.

  “Give this to him,” the dragon rumbled softly. Nachal’s muscles suddenly seized, and he gasped in shock. Warmth shot through him as tendrils through his veins and organs, coming to a final rest in his heart. It burned there with peaceful warmth. He opened his eyes and smiled, feeling a warm glow suffuse him entirely.

  “I’ll try,” he said quietly.

  The dragon chuckled. “So you shall,” he said.

  Liran crouched down beside the still Auri.

  “Why hasn’t she awoken yet?” Nachal asked, instant fear making his voice harsh. He crouched down next to Liran and searched her still face. The elf was feeling along the back of her head. He winced when his tender probing encountered something.

  “What?” Nachal demanded.

  “Nearly the whole of the back of her head is swollen,” he murmured. “She has several knots. She must have smashed into something several times.”

  “Why weren’t you in her head instead of mine?” Nachal growled.

  Liran glanced at him coolly, but remained silent. Then they both turned simultaneously to stare down at Auri’s still face and closed eyes. The head of the dragon swept in silently beside them, and sniffed her delicately. “Another elf?” it whispered in shock.

  “Her name is Aurelias,” Liran rasped, his voice weary. “I was taking her home.”

  “I could only smell the men,” the dragon whispered, shame and pain coloring its ancient voice.

  “I know. That’s why I released the wolf.
His smell is so overpowering I knew that it would make you pause.”

  “It saved your life,” the ancient one agreed.

  Liran nodded, though his eyes remained fastened on Auri’s still face. As they three watched, two by sight, the third by smell, her eyelids fluttered slightly, and then she opened her eyes and blinked groggily at them. Nachal’s eyes closed in stark relief. He noticed, for the first time, the loud sound of his heartbeat drumming in his ears. He opened his eyes and looked over at Liran whose eyes were glowing as he stared down at Auri. She held a hand up, and both Liran and Nachal reached for it, helping her gently to her feet. She let go and backed a bit closer to the rail, looking up at the dragon’s head that was suddenly right in front of her.

  “I am sorry that I damaged thee, young one,” the ancient voice said contritely. “I did not know that thy ship carried elves on their homeward journey, else I would have let thee pass.”

  Auri blinked and stared incredulously. She looked from Nachal to Liran to the dragon, and then did it again. After she had made the circuit at least three times, she turned to Liran. “I think I hit my head too hard,” she whispered in confusion.

  The dragon chuckled, leaning a little closer. “Dost thou mind if I get closer to smell thee better? I wish to remember thy scent for the future.”

  Auri deliberated briefly then nodded her head tersely once. The dragon’s neck wound its way forward, until its warm snout nuzzled the skin of her arms, neck and face. She closed her eyes; the dragon did the same. A long, silent moment passed in which they both stood very still. “Thy scent,” the dragon rumbled quietly, “it is familiar to me. I do not know why this is so. I have never met thee, young one.” The dragon’s face tightened in fierce concentration as it turned its head to the side and sniffed Auri again with a deep quaff of indrawn air. “So familiar. . .” it murmured absently.

  Auri’s hands clenched tightly, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. Then she visibly stilled them and stepped forward, directly in front of the sea dragon. She raised her right hand and placed her palm against Drashmere’s warm, wet cheek. “Does this help, ancient one?” she asked quietly.