When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  “Odoune loves you,” Yinkle said. “If you love Odoune, and there are no elven traditions in your way, why don’t you be with him? Tiberan is gone. You should be happy.”

  “I have never loved casually,” Aradma replied thoughtfully. “Other seelie might, but I cannot.”

  Yinkle looked worried. Her whiskers twitched. “Being lonely is not a good thing either. You loved Odoune once.”

  “I did, and I still do. I care for him deeply. With Tiberan it was different. Intimacy with him helped me learn about myself. It made me want the kind of love that gives a lot, and that kind of love I’m only able to give to one person. I know now that Odoune is not that person. I know Tiberan is gone, and I hope I find someone again with whom I can share that kind of connection. I want what Hylda and Attaris have, and I know commitment of that type is not in Odoune’s nature. It’s in the nature of trolls to have more than one mate.”

  “I see. One of you would have to sacrifice.” Yinkle nodded. “One of you would have to compromise your self. You’ve said this to me before when you told me about the Matriarch. We all have a natural way.”

  “Yes.” Aradma smiled. “And the right love for us is the kind that allows us to be who we are. It allows us to be true to our nature, and also one where our partners can be true to their own nature. I don’t think I could be what Odoune needs me to be, and Odoune could not be what I need.”

  Yinkle sighed again. “I get it. I just don’t want you to be lonely.”

  Aradma sensed sadness in Yinkle’s soul. She’d never forgotten that these people had left their homes because of her. It wasn’t just the seelie who had been taken in by the people of Windbowl; it had also been the ratling crew who left Kallanista with her and Tiberan. The music of Yinkle’s spirit was content for the most part, but there were notes of solitude that dipped into haunting minor chords every once in a while.

  Aradma patted Yinkle’s rodent forehead. “I’ll be fine. I have her. And you have us.”

  “You know, you missed her birthday.”

  Aradma stared at the ratling for a moment. “I… I forgot?”

  “You were busy. Taer Iriliandrel.”

  Aradma frowned.

  The druid recalled how strong Sidhna had been. If Sidhna had caught her… Aradma wasn’t sure she would have survived. She realized how close she had come to leaving Fernwalker alone without her. What if she didn’t come back to Fernwalker one day? She had so much to teach her yet.

  Aradma walked over to her daughter. Fernwalker stood from her games.

  The druid knelt so they were at eye level. “Sweetie,” she said, “I missed your birthday.”

  “I know,” Fernwalker replied. “It’s okay. You were at the tower. It was important. Yinkle brought me cookies.”

  Aradma gave a wry smile and shook her head. Yinkle was truly a fantastic friend.

  “Well, I have a gift for you too,” Aradma said. “You’re young, but these are dangerous times. I would have waited until you were older, but you might need it sooner.”

  “What’s that?”

  Aradma placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and focused as her Dragon memories within her knew to do. She reached out with her senses and found the connection inside her daughter that allowed the young girl to channel Life. Aradma sent her own energy and attuned Fernwalker’s link, giving it a surge of Life so that it would blossom even further.

  Fernwalker took a deep breath. “Mom! I felt something inside me! In my heart!”

  “Today, you take your first steps towards becoming a druid of Ahmbren, a protector of life,” Aradma said. “Let your spirit be Life’s vessel, and your heart nature’s protector. I will teach you. Odoune will teach you.” But now, even without them, her daughter would grow in power.

  Fernwalker jumped and squealed with excitement. She hugged her mother fiercely. “Thank you, thank you! This is the best birthday present ever!”

  Aradma hugged her daughter fiercely.

  “Hey, look!” Fernwalker exclaimed, pointing. “Hylda!”

  Aradma followed her daughter’s finger. She was right. The dwarf galloped up the road that led to their house.

  The three of them waited in the garden courtyard as Hylda raced towards them at a full gallop. She reined the horse to a stop just outside the front gate.

  “Aradma!” she cried out. “Aradma!”

  Aradma rushed to meet her, alarmed by the frantic tone in her friend’s voice. The music of Hylda’s soul rang with notes of discord and anguished worry. “What is it?”

  “Duke Montevin’s dead!”

  Fernwalker’s eyes grew very wide. She pressed her palms to her face to wipe away tears.

  “Attaris,” Hylda continued, babbling almost hysterically. “He’s still there. Fighting vampires! I think they’re losing. Rajamin came back today. He said Attaris was alive when he left, but that was ten days ago.”

  Aradma placed her hand on the dwarf’s knee. “Hylda,” she said. “Ground yourself in the Light. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

  The dwarf stopped, and then nodded. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply.

  “Yes, thank you,” Hylda said. “But it’s Attaris. I need to go to him but it will take days. I could be too late. Aradma, please. Fly there and make sure my husband is okay. You could get there tonight.”

  Aradma regarded her friend for a moment, and then looked at her daughter. Vampires had broken into Hammerfold, and it was only a matter of time before they came here. She didn’t want to leave Fernwalker. But Attaris—

  The scar on her stomach flared in intense pain. She clutched her belly and doubled over.

  “Aradma!”

  “Mom!”

  Hylda dismounted and came to Aradma’s side.

  “No, I’m alright,” Aradma said. She grimaced and stood up straight, walking towards the house. “I just need to sit down.”

  She knew what it was. She held deep affection for Attaris. He had found her in the snow and tended her when she was newly formed. If she ignored him, she couldn’t live with herself if something happened to him. She needed to go.

  But would Fernwalker be safe here? What would happen when the vampires came? They frenzied at the sight of seelie and always seemed to find them first. Seelie had learned to be aggressive with vampires and go on the offensive. Those that could fight did, and those that couldn’t retreated far into safe territory. Or they died.

  Attaris or Fernwalker. Her scar burned. “I’m sorry,” she said. She thought about her encounter with Sidhna. “My daughter is here.”

  “Aradma, please,” Hylda implored. “It’s Attaris.”

  Odoune entered the house, followed by Suleima and Yinkle. They must have felt the tension in the room between the two women, for they waited in silence.

  The memory of Sidhna’s voice rang in her mind. I will consume you and all that is yours.

  “I…” She didn’t know what to do.

  Fernwalker or Attaris. You must choose. It was the voice of the Fae King whose personality lived on in her mind. You cannot sit on the sidelines any longer. You must involve yourself in the world once more.

  * * *

  Nine days after Rajamin had left, a platoon of thirty Windbowlian soldiers arrived in Kriegsholm. They had left with over fifty but had lost men to vampire attacks on the way. The implications of this were not lost on the people of Kriegsholm. It had to be assumed that at least some of those men had risen again. Unless every body was accounted for and burned, every mortal death in this war meant the enemy’s numbers increased.

  Attaris sat on the stone steps outside of town hall. It was cold enough, but at least it was sunny. His bottom had warmed the stone enough that he didn’t want to rise. It all seemed a futile ritual now; survive the night, scour the town during the day, and confirm the next night that there were more.

  They were like roaches. Bloodsucking, undead roaches that looked like former friends and family. They searched the town and the surroundin
g country for the nest, but wherever they were, they had been clever enough to hide. They weren’t foolish, just hungry. None of them wanted to die, and once they fed, they were lucid enough to conceal where they slept. Of course, they could become fog. They could seep into cracks and crevices that the living simply couldn’t search. The nearby hills weren’t without caves. Attaris wondered how many of them slept with the bats.

  Yesterday had been quite bad. There were down to just under five hundred people now in the city, and somehow word had gotten out about Count Markus’ proposition. People were starting to whisper of Count Pavlin’s hungerbound, and how they couldn’t afford to fight Roenti without Markus’ help. When one of the townsfolk—the blacksmith, Attaris thought—openly suggested that Jorey send a rider south and seek the protection of the Covenant, the dwarven runewarden lost his composure. He walked up to the man and punched him in the face. He had no intention of letting them surrender. How could he face Aiella knowing her husband’s death had been for nothing?

  Attaris dusted off his pants and went inside to tell Jorey that reinforcements had arrived.

  The troops were a welcome addition, and the town’s hopes brightened when the soldiers arrived with the flag of Windbowl raised high and their guns gleaming brightly. They had fixed their rifles with wooden bayonets. Yet it only took two days for people to realize that their presence hadn’t changed anything. The platoon size dwindled more, and soldiers with guns filled out the vampire ranks.

  The third night after the troops arrived, Attaris huddled in the living room with Jorey’s family. No one wanted to sleep alone in the back bedrooms. To pass the time, he and Keira played a simple card game. Arlen sat by the front door, always shifted into wolven form. Attaris couldn’t remember having seen him return to his human form since Duke Montevin died. Jorey and Magda huddled in the far corner on the other side of the hearth, whispering to each other.

  “I wonder if this is how people in Roenti live now,” Attaris said, laying down a Ten of Hourglasses. “Passing the time at night, hoping they can’t figure out a way in.”

  “It is said,” Keira replied, placing an Ace of Candles over his Ten, “that the hungrier they get, the less intelligent they become.”

  “Like the ones from the iron boxes,” Attaris said. Something didn’t add up right about that. Why would Pavlin send iron boxes, and how had they dropped from the sky?

  “They’re dangerous when they’re smart,” Keira said. “They might find a way to trick us into letting them in, or use fire as I’ve heard of some stories from Astia. But when they’re hungry, they’ll wait for the foolish who venture out, or they’ll move on to another town.”

  “I refuse to accept a world where we can’t walk freely under the stars. Beat that.” He laid down a Virgin of Shields.

  “Queen of Tombstones wins,” she said.

  “Damn it,” muttered the dwarf. “I’m glad we’re not playing for money.”

  Fingernails scratched at the door. He stopped and Arlen tensed. The scratching ceased. Ten minutes passed, and they resumed their activities.

  They played in silence for a while. Jorey and Magda’s whispers grew more elevated in their argument, and recognizable words started to push forward. Attaris heard “duty to the people,” and “it can’t hurt to ask,” and then “Covenant.”

  His blood ran cold. Keira froze in front of him in mid-shuffle. She heard the same thing.

  Suddenly she stood, knocking her chair to the floor.

  “Mother, Father!” she exclaimed. “You are not thinking of what I think you’re saying!”

  “Keira!” her father admonished. “Nothing is settled.”

  “Whose idea was it?” she asked.

  “It was mine,” Arlen growled unexpectedly. His golden wolf eyes stared at them, calmly reflecting the hearth fire. “We can’t win this.”

  “I agree,” Magda finally said. “I sent a messenger south yesterday morning.”

  “Without telling me?” Jorey protested. “You should have told me.”

  “We knew you would never do it,” Arlen replied gruffly.

  “Your father is right!” Attaris exclaimed. “What were you thinking, lad?”

  “About life,” Arlen said. “What good is it if we all die. This way, we can live with the infected on our own terms. Some of us can go on living, and the Liberated in the Covenant are not like these monsters outside. They have learned to live with their disability.”

  “DISABILITY?!” Attaris shouted in incredulity. “Horseshit!”

  They all gasped at his profanity. He was not one to swear.

  “Are you insane?!” he sputtered. “Don’t look shocked at my language, you deserve it. Are you listening to yourself? You’re the ones speaking shit! What about Duke Montevin? Would you dishonor him so? You cannot throw your lives away like this! Count Markus sent the hungerbound, I feel it in my bones. I’m the only one here speaking any fucking sense.”

  “I wasn’t saying it,” Keira replied reproachfully, hurt in her voice.

  “No lass, you weren’t,” Attaris calmed a little. “But these others—”

  “Markus didn’t send the hungerbound,” Arlen challenged. “I was there at the meeting. He warned us about Pavlin, and we didn’t listen.”

  Attaris looked at Magda and Jorey. “Are you really buying this? He’s been subverted. Too much time on the border. They must have been talking to him for months now.”

  Arlen snorted, and Attaris knew he had hit a nerve.

  “He’s our son,” Magda said. “He’s not subverted. What he says makes sense.”

  Jorey looked torn. “What else can we do?” he cried. His eyes pleaded with Attaris for a way out.

  “I don’t fucking believe this,” Attaris said. He had to get away from these people. He pushed Arlen out of the way and opened the front door, intending to go out into the night. Two vampires loomed on the doorstep, and he slammed the door shut again. He went back to his chair and planted his elbows on the table, glaring at all of them.

  “It is done,” Magda said. “The count returns tomorrow night with his own vampires. He’ll start cleaning the town for us. We just need some volunteers to submit to being turned. He’ll teach us to control ourselves, and then once the town is cleaned, his vampires will leave.”

  Attaris clamped his jaw shut.

  “Who would volunteer for such a thing?” Keira asked softly. Her ice blue eyes glittered in anger.

  “I will,” Magda said. “It will save lives. It will save your lives.”

  “If my wife does it, I will too.” Jorey stared at the ground, unable to meet Attaris’ eyes.

  The worst thing was, he was stuck with these people until morning.

  * * *

  It was strangely dark in the living room. All Aradma could see were Hylda’s liquid eyes glistening with moisture. “Please,” she repeated. “Go save my husband.”

  “I can’t,” Aradma said. “I can’t leave Fernwalker. I’m sorry.”

  “There are plenty of people to watch over Fernwalker,” Hylda protested. There was anger in her voice now. “Attaris is there now, fighting now. You owe him, after all he’s done for you! This is his house you live in!”

  Aradma shook her head once more. The scar flared, and she gave a slight gasp as she clutched at it. “You don’t understand. I can’t.”

  Hylda looked as if she had been slapped in the face. Her eyes turned cold, and for the first time ever, Aradma saw her lips curl into a sneer. “Ungrateful bitch. We are done, you and I. I hope for your sake he is alive when I get there.”

  She threw open the front door and slammed it behind her. They heard her horse gallop away, and then all was silent.

  Aradma saw the eyes of her friends staring at her. She hung her head. Shame burned her face, and she couldn’t stop her own tears from falling.

  Fernwalker approached her mother. “Mom,” she said. “You should go. I’ll be fine.”

  Aradma embraced her daughter and crushed her body to h
er. “I can’t leave you,” she said.

  “Mom,” Fernwalker pushed her back a little, placing her tiny hands on Aradma’s shoulders. “You must go to your friend. I will be safe here.”

  “We can take her into the city,” Yinkle said. “She’ll have more protection there, at least until you return.”

  “My faith in the gods is strong,” Suleima offered. “Fernwalker is like a daughter to me too. I will see she comes to no harm.”

  Odoune knelt beside Aradma. His large, almond-shaped troll eyes stared into hers. His tusks almost touched her cheeks. The expression on his face held that familiar serenity. “I will go with you,” he said.

  Suleima shot him an unhappy glance at that, but did not say anything.

  “Do not leave your friend’s fate to chance,” Odoune continued. “Do not throw away Hylda’s love either. Suleima is right. Our daughter will be safe.”

  Aradma felt a flash of anger. “What do you know of our daughter?” she snapped, the words coming unbidden through her lips.

  She saw the shocked pain in Odoune’s eyes and placed her hands over her mouth, as if to take her words back.

  “Odoune, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

  “I know you didn’t,” Odoune whispered.

  The scar flared again but she ignored it. It wasn’t as strong this time. She took a deep breath. “You’re right, my dearest friend. Let us leave now while I have any resolve at all,” she said. She stood and embraced Fernwalker once more. “Be safe,” she told her daughter. “I will come back to you.”