When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  Aradma opened her heart and listened to the music of his soul. The fabric of faerie memories within her interpreted what she heard. The king’s mind was strong but fairly straightforward and simple. He asked out of a genuine thirst for advice and was not afraid of considering the unorthodox. This meant he was smart, too.

  “Although she is not a vampire, they share one thing in common: they are both undead,” Aradma explained. “He can’t feed on her, nor will he be tempted by her. She has no blood. In addition, she’s quite smart, and if I’m not mistaken, she has taken strongly to the magical arts.”

  The duke nodded. “Aradma’s right. Sending her will constitute a show of force and remind the count that there is much in Hammerfold for him to calculate against.”

  “If the queen’s note is true,” the king mused, “we will have new risks to consider. It’s no longer just the thirsty dead. A count who can treat is a count who can strategize. They may just be buying time while they raise armies. You go with Seredith.

  “One thing is clear: they have human subjects who are willing and loyal. The messenger who came—he was living. He traveled in the day. That’s why he could move through our kingdom without raising suspicion—we’ve been so focused on the damned vampires, and we assumed they had no intelligence. At least, no effective intelligence. I’ve ordered my war council to recommend new procedures on our roads and border towns. Refugees are now risks to the realm.”

  “My king,” Montevin prompted. “You said there were two messages.”

  “Yes,” Donogan replied. “A Kaldorite operative made it from Erindil and almost through Roenti before he was killed south of our border. My agents found him before he died. Although we couldn’t save him, he passed on a message which I think you’ll want to hear.” He looked at Hylda. “Taer Iriliandrel has reappeared in Erindil.”

  Hylda shot to her feet. “Kaldor lives?” Her eyes narrowed with intensity.

  “There is no word on the fate of the wizard,” the king said.

  “He is the last avatar,” Aradma stated. The king’s news hit her in the gut. She knew then that she had put off for too long becoming involved in the affairs of the realms. Valkrage’s dying words still haunted her, and for eight years she had ignored him, saying that there was one final task left unfinished by the Archdragons. She loved her daughter, but she needed to stop pretending that she had the luxury of ignoring the world outside her home. Not just for the people of Windbowl and her friends, but also for her daughter’s sake, she needed to expand her circle of concern to the lands outside of Windbowl and Hammerfold. “I will go to Erindil to learn his fate.”

  “It’s too dangerous!” Rajamin protested. “You’re too valuable!”

  “Nonsense,” Aradma said.

  “I’d prefer you not risk yourself,” King Donogan agreed with the ratling. “Let me send someone to investigate. You know how the vampires react to your kind.”

  “No,” Aradma said. “I won’t wait. I will go alone. Valkrage fell to madness when Eldrikura died. Kaldor may have suffered the same fate. Archurion was Graelyn’s mate. I will not deny her memory of him.”

  13 - The Man in Black

  Markus sealed his daughter’s wrist with a drop of his blood. She was the queen, but it was he who ruled. The throne was important to whatever magic kept him alive. He didn’t understand it, but he was a practical man. He took the hand he was dealt and played with those cards. Some rules you could break, and some you just accepted. He knew he would need to find a husband for her to ensure their line would continue. But that was a future concern. Securing the peace was more pressing.

  The unnamed Man in Black had set Markus on this course. Astia had been falling town by town to the hungerbound. The infestation spread to Astiana itself, and they had been losing. It would only have been a matter of time.

  Then the Man in Black appeared to him. He wore a cleanly pressed linen suit, died to the blackest coal. His skin was the color of olives, and he wore neatly trimmed black hair that was cut short. His face was smooth shaven, and his green eyes had strange orange flecks smoldering in the outer rings of his irises. He held a waist-high ebony cane in his right hand, topped with a spotless silver raven head. He never said his name, and Markus couldn’t guess it.

  “Do you want to live in torment forever?” the man had asked.

  “No!” the count replied. There was something about the man that made him want to be very honest.

  “My cousin has not thought her plan through,” the man said. “And while I admire her intent, it is her ends that somewhat concern me. What would you say if I could help you live forever in peace?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Someone who reveals opportunities.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Your trust. Maybe I’ll come back to you, some day, with a request.”

  “My soul?” Markus asked.

  The man shook his head gravely. “No. Demons desire souls. I am no demon.”

  A chill ran down Markus’ spine. “What are you offering?”

  “Malahkma’s blood knows no end to its lust,” the man said. “If this continues, all life will die, but you will all be trapped forever in hunger. I offer you a way out.”

  “Malahkma.” Markus tasted the word as if dust had fallen on his tongue.

  “Yes.” The man’s eyelids trembled briefly in the faintest of pleasure. “Her blood lives in each and every vampire.”

  “How do we beat them?”

  “Markus!” the man’s voice turned to mocking pity. “No! You always think bigger than this. How do you master them? How would you like a world with no gods ruling you?”

  Markus considered. “Karanos did us no favors.”

  The man’s lips twisted into a sneer when Markus said that name. “Indeed. I killed him the first time. Pity that humans had to bring him back.”

  “Why would you want a world with no gods?” Markus asked.

  “Not no gods,” the man corrected. “A world where you are servants to no god.”

  “You don’t want our worship?”

  “Never mind what I want,” the man said. “My needs are well met. Let’s say that I want what none of the other gods, dark or light, want: a free world.”

  “You will restore my throne?” Markus had been obsessed with returning Astia to its own sovereign rule after the Empire collapsed.

  “No,” the man replied. “You will abandon your desire for the throne. You will crown your daughter as queen.”

  “Why would I do that?” Markus asked. “I should be king!”

  “Go tomorrow,” the man ignored him. “Take her before the Throne of Astia and declare that she will become queen, by the line of your blood, at the rising of the next dawn. This is important. She must not be queen before tomorrow night, but you must declare it tomorrow. Anoint the throne with an intermingling of your blood and hers, and then crown her, and hide her away.

  “Then tomorrow night at dusk, the first vampire will come to you. You will sit upon the throne and greet her. Pledge yourself to her willingly. She will drink from you and you will die, and she will leave you. Then you shall rise a vampire yourself on the second night.

  “Your test: master your hunger. Drink but do not kill. Go to your daughter and taste her blood. She will give herself to you willingly. You will forge a Covenant with her: her blood for your protection of her and all her line. Your line. Your blood will be bound to your homeland. You cannot be sovereign as a vampire, for kingship is the domain of civilization and of the goddess Athra, Malahkma’s greatest enemy. You and your progeny will be bound to the fate of the living throne. More importantly, if you do this, I will visit you once more and place my mark upon you. It will protect you should Athra ever rise to cast Malahkma back into the Abyss, as she surely will.”

  “You would have me surrender and become one of them? They cannot control their thirst. It is impossible.”

  “That is because no one since the first has given themselves fr
eely. If you do that, then you have a chance. It won’t be easy.”

  “Why would Iristine agree to this?”

  “I have been with her. She is quite agreeable, let me assure you. She will be queen.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then I will leave you to your fate, and take your daughter with me. She is quite delicious.”

  “I see,” the count responded.

  “I will take my leave of you then,” the man said. “I will know of your agreement by whether you follow my instructions. I will know you are worthy if you return to your daughter and form the Covenant. I will visit you once more. Succeed, and I will consummate the Covenant by offering you my blood to mix with hers. Fail, and Iristine is mine.”

  “You threaten me,” the count growled. “This is not an offer. It is blackmail.”

  “You misunderstand. I am not your enemy but your savior. Sidhna comes for you. You can take your chances and try to resist her, but that has not gone well for any before you. But I like your daughter. I will intervene on her behalf and remove her from Sidhna’s reach should you fail.”

  “And then what?” he asked. “You haven’t actually offered me anything. What then? What are you giving to me?”

  “Still you misunderstand,” the man smiled with amusement. “This isn’t a bargain or a contract. I’ve given you the gift of opportunity. It matters not to me if you take it.”

  And with those final words, the man had vanished.

  Markus thought about it for some time, but when Iristine implored him to follow the man’s instructions, he acquiesced.

  It had all unfolded exactly as the Man in Black said it would. He was somewhat surprised to see that the first vampire had been an elven girl. She came for him and seemed surprised when he surrendered freely. She drained him, and then left him for dead.

  He rose the next night as a vampire, rising from a bed in the cellar away from the daytime sun. He remembered everything the man had said. He was terribly thirsty, and it took all his willpower not to devour the servants on the way up to his daughter’s chambers where the new queen waited for him. He focused on her, on Iristine. He knew if he failed this test, the man would come and take her away. He knew he must see this through.

  His daughter waited for him in a loose silk nightgown. He rushed to her and drank from her neck, and the innocence of her blood filled and soothed his soul, pushing back the serpentine hunger in his veins. After a few deep pulls, he was able to push her away before draining her too much. Her freely given blood sacrifice, and his restraint, birthed the Covenant.

  The Man in Black visited him later that night as promised. He offered his wrist, and Markus drank of his blood. It spread cold and dark through him, mixing with the warmth of his daughter’s blood and intertwining with the serpentine essence that had transformed him into a vampire in the first place. The cold dark receded into the shadows of the other blood, hiding beneath the surface of his awareness. The serpents, however, were always there.

  That had been two years ago. Markus had not seen the man, or Sidhna, since. But the count was smart. He saw the opportunity of the Covenant, and now he had control of his whole kingdom. He had built a future where the contagion could be mastered and had expanded some of the Covenant into towns in the other infected lands.

  He then sent a message to the king of Hammerfold, who had successfully kept his own lands free through the courage and vigilance of his people. And those damned light elves. The seelie could never partake in the Covenant. They would die—on that, there could be no compromise.

  Markus knew what he was doing was good. He knew he could forge a lasting peace through the Nine Realms. He knew he held the only solution to the hungerbound, and it would take some time to get things completely stable. He was ruthless with those who broke his law. Humans were too valuable, and their trust must be preserved.

  He had been somewhat surprised when Danry had mastered his hunger. The bard had been taken against his will. Markus was pleased, however, at this man’s exceptionally strong character. He and his two companions were now headed to Erindil. Well, all they would find there was more hungerbound. The Covenant had only recently freed the port city of Tavenport and had not yet caught hold in Erindil itself. He felt confident that Danry could convince both the paladin and sorceress to join the Covenant. The paladin was the most important. He did not like losing Tulley and the credibility he had brought to the count’s movement.

  He would have focused on the darkling woman himself, but he needed to make his final preparations for the peace summit. His team of Bloodsworn had already begun their journey north towards Kriegsholm, and Markus would soon join them. He would take a few of the Liberated with him for good measure. No telling whom King Donogan would finally send to meet him, and he couldn’t afford unnecessary risk.

  It would not be easy getting Hammerfold to submit to the Covenant, but he also saw a clear path to victory. It began with an offer of peace, but it did not end there. He did not kill all of the hungerbound, as the people believed. He had locked some away, chained in iron boxes, letting them starve to the point of insanity. If the boxes were ever opened, they would frenzy and kill all in their path.

  A second secret caravan also traveled north through the foothills on back roads. Forty iron boxes slowly made their way towards the Hammerfold border.

  14 - Matters of the Heart

  It was late afternoon on the waves, and Arda and Anuit sat on the deck of the ship looking over its rails. They huddled close, speaking softly.

  “There are eight coffins in the hold,” Arda said. “They weren’t all for Danry.”

  Anuit shifted her weight on her elbows. “What do you want to do?” she asked. “The crew is Bloodsworn. By nightfall it will be apparent that Danry didn’t make the ship.”

  “We can’t kill whoever rests in the coffins without tipping the crew off,” Arda reasoned. “They’ll be expecting to feed their masters tonight. Do you think we can talk our way out of this?”

  Anuit considered it. The succubus could seduce some of the crew, maybe even a vampire or two. But eight boxes was a lot.

  “We could threaten the crew into submission,” Anuit said. “I’m sure they would find they fear demons more than they fear their masters. But what happens when we reach Tavenport? We need to keep our cover as Bloodsworn, or at least as friendly.”

  “Then we go with it,” Arda said. “We play the part. We pretend to be distraught that our ‘master’ is missing and get one of the other vampires to take us as charges.”

  “How can we do that without them feeding on us?” Anuit asked, alarmed at the thought.

  “We can’t,” Arda stated, matter-of-factly.

  Anuit’s stomach churned. “You cannot be serious!” She started to feel hysterical. “No!” she said, more loudly this time. She trembled. “I won’t allow it, I won’t—”

  “Lower your voice,” Arda hissed. The paladin grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard. “Control yourself.”

  Anuit froze. “Please let me go,” she said, quietly this time.

  Arda spent a moment looking at her intently, checking to be sure. Arda’s pure black eyes glittered coldly, but not in anger. The darkling released Anuit’s wrist.

  “I don’t like…” the sorceress began. “I don’t like people touching me.” The idea of one of those things sipping at her skin sent shivers down her back.

  “I know it’s hard,” Arda said, “but we have a quest. A mission. Find Kaldor. And to do that, we have to survive.”

  “I know what it is to sacrifice,” Anuit muttered. Then she thought to herself, Do I really? Other than her slip with the demons, when had she ever really been in danger before now? She always used her servitors as a shield to keep her protected. She even used them—Bryona specifically—as a means to avoid the unpleasant and distasteful. Arda held a determination born of years of questing at great personal risk, putting duty before safety. Arda ran towards things; Anuit ran away from things.


  She felt dizzy for a moment. Nausea overcame her, and the next thing she knew, she was bent over the rail, bottom up, with Arda holding her waist as she vomited her lunch into the ocean. When she finished, she pushed herself back to her feet.

  “You look green,” Arda said. “Get to your cabin and lie down. I don’t think the sea agrees with you.”

  Anuit nodded and left, but not before retching over the side once more. The sailors gave amused smirks as Arda led her below decks and left her alone to nap.

  Anuit woke a few hours later, but the vertigo had not left her. Arda gave her soup and water, which she soon lost again, rushing down the galley to the ship’s bow before she vomited on the decks.

  “Sea travel really doesn’t agree with you, does it?” Arda commented as Anuit went back to bed. As she closed her eyes, she saw the sun set through the porthole.

  She woke up later and opened her eyes, not moving. Arda sat across the cabin on her own bunk, whispering with a man who sat beside her. They didn’t notice Anuit watching, and the sorceress kept her breathing steady.

  “It’s fortunate for me that the bard didn’t make the ship,” the man said.

  “His loss,” Arda agreed.

  “Do you know why he traveled?”

  “No, I don’t,” she said. “That’s not my business. I only know that he’s not here, and I’m free to choose a new lord, am I not?”

  “Indeed,” the vampire responded. “That is the law. What about her?”

  “Ship life doesn’t agree with her,” Arda answered. “She’s not well.”

  “I’ve never tasted a darkling before,” he said. “I’ve been curious…”

  Arda offered her arm, and he gently cradled her wrist in his hands. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, puncturing her skin with his fangs.

  Another woman came in. She was black, with features from Tiumapar. Her hair was frizzy and full, falling in nappy dreadlocks. “These are the bard’s charges?”

  “We were,” Arda said in a breathy voice.