When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  “Mom!” Fernwalker shrieked. “The door!”

  Aradma turned. Red mist descended to the ground and collected at the edge of the open door. It grew and condensed into Sidhna’s scaled body.

  “You’re not invited!” Aradma shouted. “You’re not invited!”

  “I will tear this house stone from stone,” Sidhna hissed. She grabbed the doorframe and ripped it away.

  “Out of my way!” Aradma shouted at Oriand.

  Oriand hesitated. “The gods—”

  Vines sprouted from the floor and lifted the troll woman aside. Aradma grabbed a torch and lit it from the hearth’s embers. She descended into the cellar without another glance.

  At the back of the cellar chamber, she saw it. A woman, perfectly formed and molded from brass and zorium copper. The woman stood perfectly still. Aradma reached out and touched the cold metal skin. It was a dead thing.

  “Oh please,” Aradma breathed aloud. “Please don’t let this be for nothing.”

  Something whirred and clicked within the metal shell of a woman. The head turned and the gemstone eyes focused on Aradma. They glowed blue.

  “Elf,” she stated. “Species, unknown. I have no record of your kind.”

  “You are Athra’s Jewel,” Aradma said.

  “Yes. What information do you require?”

  “I need to destroy Malahkma.”

  “I do not have this information,” Athra’s Jewel responded. “It is recorded that only Athra defeated Malahkma and cast the Goddess of Desire into the Abyss.”

  Aradma put Fernwalker down and handed her the torch. She shook the construct’s shoulders. “Damn you! You’re supposed to do something!” She heard walls crumbling upstairs.

  Red mist flowed down the stairs, and then Sidhna stood there. Her eyes gleamed with triumph, taking in both Aradma and Fernwalker.

  “You have failed,” Sidhna said. “I will make your daughter watch as I drink you dry. And then I will consume her life as well.”

  Athra’s Jewel turned to focus her eyes on Sidhna. “Undead. Species unknown. I have no record of your kind.”

  “Do something!” Aradma screamed. “Kill her!”

  Athra’s Jewel turned to Aradma, and then back to Sidhna. “You think I am the goddess Athra,” she warbled. “You are confused by my name.”

  Aradma summoned roots and thorns, but Sidhna knocked them away with ease.

  The construct took a step forward.

  Sidhna rushed to Aradma’s side, moving faster than her eyes could follow. She struck the construct and sent it flying against the wall. She grabbed Aradma and held her close. Her fangs extended, and she bit into Aradma’s neck.

  “Mom!” Fernwalker screamed. The girl fell back against the wall and huddled to the floor, covering her face with her arms.

  Aradma struggled, but then Sidhna’s venom filled her body. The druid relaxed. It would be okay, she thought. It would soon be over, and she could rest. She and her daughter would rest together…

  No, the Fae court sounded in her mind. You are not finished yet. Do what you came to do.

  Aradma reached down inside herself and found the link to Athra that Rajamin had conferred. She prayed.

  Bright Lady. Goddess of Civilization. Hear me now. Your vessel lies there on the wall. Athra’s Jewel. The archive of all civilized knowledge. Take it. If you don’t, Malahkma’s champion will destroy it, and it will be she who rules Ahmbren.

  The gold matrix in her heart flared. It grew, expanding past her body.

  Sidhna fell back to the floor. “No!” she breathed in horrified wonder.

  The matrix of light filled the room. Aradma lay on the floor. Both Fernwalker and Sidhna also saw the gathered light of the Kairantheum. They stared transfixed as it floated over to the construct. It condensed within the metal body.

  The construct stood. Its eyes glowed a radiant blue, now tinged with gold. Light emerged from the seams between its joints.

  “I am Athra,” the thing said, all trace of warbling had gone from the voice. “Behold your goddess.”

  Sidhna rushed at the thing, but Athra reached out and caught her neck.

  “Destroy her!” Aradma murmured. “She is Malahkma’s champion.”

  Athra regarded the vampire in her grasp. “She is not yet Malahkma,” she stated. “But the Goddess of Desire is strongly rooted in her.”

  Sidhna hissed, but another voice uttered forth. “No. I will not go back. Please, don’t send me back.”

  “Destroy her,” Aradma murmured again. “Please. Don’t let her live.”

  Athra turned to Aradma. “No. Balance must be preserved. It is forbidden to destroy a god, even one such as Malahkma. It is sacrilege. She will be imprisoned.”

  She turned back to Sidhna’s writhing body. “Malahkma, I cast you out in my name and in the names of High Gods, Daag, Nephyr, and Modhrin. Be cast back into the Abyss from whence you came.”

  The slithery voice wailed. “Nooooo…” and then it faded. Sidhna’s body went limp. The scales fell off her skin, and beneath it was the pale, smooth flesh of the elven woman. The snakes on her head withered, and the reptilian scalp sloughed off. Sidhna’s hair was now plastered in short, wet, wisps around her face. Athra set her down on the ground, and Sidhna took a step back. She looked around as if confused.

  “I don’t understand,” Aradma protested. “Why isn’t she dead?”

  “Malahkma’s works are undone,” Athra stated. “Her spirit is gone from this one’s blood, but there is the blood of another within her, one with whom I have no immediate quarrel.”

  Athra walked past them out of the room and up the stairs.

  Sidhna gathered herself. She clutched at her chest. “Something’s different,” she said, softly. “The serpents are gone, but the hunger remains.” She looked down at Aradma. Her fangs extended once more.

  “No,” Aradma protested. She summoned vines again but they were weak. Sidhna pushed through them and clutched Aradma’s neck back to her lips. She drank, and Aradma relaxed again into the venom’s soothing lull.

  “Interesting,” a man’s voice said. Athaym stepped out of the shadows. “That’s enough Sidhna,” he commanded. The elven vampire released Aradma. “I thought I sensed your arrival,” he remarked. “Athra doesn’t seem to care if you live or die, Aradma.”

  “What are you—?”

  “There will be time for that later,” he interrupted. His voice seemed strangely unconcerned. “Kaldor approaches, and it is not yet time to reveal myself. Sidhna, carry Aradma for me. We’re going to take her somewhere safe.”

  “Yes, lord,” Sidhna said.

  “And Sidhna,” Athaym added. “Drink from her to keep her calm, but if she dies, you will suffer. Do you understand?”

  Sidhna whimpered. “Yes, my lord.”

  Sidhna lifted Aradma in strong arms and followed the black elf up the stairs. Aradma saw Fernwalker still huddled, trembling in the corner. Fernwalker moved to follow, but Aradma shook her head.

  The house’s front wall had been torn open by Sidhna’s earlier assault, and part of the roof ripped off. Aradma saw Oriand lying unconscious on the floor beside the dining table. She seemed to be breathing, but blood oozed from her head. Athra stood unmoving in the living room. She seemed to have switched off. Nothing glowed in her body.

  They left the garden and entered the forest. Aradma caught a glimpse of Kaldor’s carpet descending, but she was too weak to call out to him.

  * * *

  Kaldor dropped the carpet into the garden yard outside their house. The front wall had been torn open, and the roof looked like it had been peeled away. He drew his wand, surmising that Sidhna had gotten past the need for invitation into a home by destroying the building until it could no longer function as a home in any meaningful sense.

  He saw Oriand lying unconscious on the ground. He wanted to go to her, but what was in the cellar was more important. He rushed towards the stairs and then stopped. He saw Athra’s Jewel in the shadows at the
far end of the living room. She had moved, but where was Aradma?

  The Jewel’s eyes came to life, casting a blue and gold light over the room. She was different. He sensed magic within her now. Conscious magic. Whatever Aradma had set out to do, it had been done. Damn it, where was she?

  “Kaldor,” the construct said. He was struck by how different the voice sounded now. “I have been awakened. I am Athra, your goddess. My priest will be here soon, and then we will restore order to the world.”

  He took a step back.

  “I have done as Graelyn’s remnant requested,” Athra continued. “Malahkma is once again bound in the Abyss, and all those creatures who were tied to her being have perished for it. The Goddess of Desire will trouble this world no longer.”

  “Until the next time she claws her way free,” Kaldor muttered. “Where is Aradma?” he asked.

  “The sidhe woman survived the purging,” Athra said. “The vampire who was once Graelyn’s vessel took the elf who bears Graelyn’s seal. There was another with them, a man. But this man, I could not see clearly. He was only shadow to my eyes.”

  “You did nothing?” Kaldor asked, incredulously. “Are you not one of the Gods of Light? You let them take her after she gave you life?”

  “I could not see clearly,” Athra repeated. “But her purpose has been fulfilled. New agonies await her, new trials. In the heart of her darkness she may yet come to find faith in us, and then she will rise to our purpose once more. Our ways are not your ways. I know now that the Archdragons were not one of us. You were not gods. It is not your place to question our will.”

  Kaldor’s eyes narrowed. He had to end this. He hoped her tie to the construct was still weak.

  She’s waiting for her priest, he realized, her earlier words coming into focus. She’s not at her full strength.

  He raised his wand.

  “Please do not destroy this vessel,” she said. “I know your purpose, but it is my appointed time. This is the right way. Please have faith in me. I am civilization. I am all that is good in the realms. Turn away from Artalon and follow me. I live both inside and outside of the Kairantheum. I am a new being. I herald in a new age. I will bring balance to gods and men.”

  Kaldor summoned the magic of one of his few remaining spells. It was a powerful one. He extended his wand, preparing to release the energy that would reduce the construct to a puddle of molten metal.

  A flash of light from behind him interrupted his spell, jumping through his body and causing his muscles to spasm. His magic dissipated into impotence. He didn’t have another spell prepared of its kind.

  “It was you all along,” Rajamin’s dry voice said from behind him.

  A sharp pain pierced Kaldor’s back before he could turn, and the wizard fell forward onto his stomach, breaking his nose on the floor. He turned his head and looked back over his shoulder.

  Rajamin held a bloodied dagger high. “I will not let you condemn this world to shadow!” He stabbed again. Kaldor cried out once more, unable to move. He tasted his own blood on his lips, and his nose sent pain throbbing throughout his skull.

  “I’m sorry,” Rajamin said. “I will find Aradma and save her. As was foretold, she brought Athra into this world, and will rule in her name. I can’t let you undo Athra’s works.”

  The ratling’s eyes were sad as he raised his knife one last time. Before he could deliver the final deathblow, he screamed and fell over, clutching his own back. He lay beside Kaldor, looking at the wizard as his eyelids drooped. Oriand’s knife lay buried deep in the center of his back.

  The troll woman crawled beside Kaldor.

  “Oh no,” she said. “No, please don’t die.”

  Athra walked past them all, disappearing into the woods.

  Kaldor coughed blood. Rajamin’s knife blows had been imprecise; otherwise, he would be already dead.

  “I…” he whispered. “I don’t think I have a choice… this is my end. Tell Aradma…”

  “No,” Oriand cradled him. “No. You will see her again. We’ll find her.”

  “I’m very sad,” he said. He felt detached from his body. “I don’t think I’ll ever get to meet my daughter…”

  * * *

  Aradma lay cradled in Sidhna’s arms in a covered wagon. The colorful unseelie sat around her. The vampire drank from her every so often, but was careful to follow Athaym’s instructions.

  She could tell they were moving. The gypsy caravan rolled down the road, leaving Windbowl behind. The unseelie kept cooing over her and petting her skin. When morning came, Sidhna fell into slumber with her arms wrapped around Aradma so that she couldn’t move.

  Athaym hopped into the wagon, taking care not to spill any sunlight onto the vampire’s body.

  “My two treasures,” he said. “Graelyn, it didn’t have to come to this. If only you had listened to me.” He turned to the unseelie. “See that no harm comes to them. They are precious beyond measure.”

  The unseelie prostrated themselves before him. He moved to sit by Aradma, and two of them moved beneath him on all fours, making a bench of their bodies. He sat on their backs.

  “You are not their savior,” Aradma murmured. Her mind was thick with Sidhna’s venom.

  “No, indeed not,” he said. “They are my slaves.”

  “Why do you torment them so?”

  “Because it pleases me to do so,” he responded. “Once, they tormented me. They kept me bound in the Otherworld, at your request. It is my revenge upon my jailers. I help the Fae bits in their minds possess their bodies, destroying the seelie that might have been. Then I make them my slaves.”

  Aradma moaned. It didn’t make sense. “How did Sidhna survive Malahkma’s undoing? Athra said she had someone else’s blood in her. Yours.” She could only think of one other dark god equal to Malahkma’s power. The one who had slain his creator, Karanos, long ago in order to become a god himself. “You’re Yamosh,” she named him.

  He laughed. “Goodness no. I am not Yamosh. I’m much older than him or any god. His handiwork, incidentally, you’ll find in the Covenant. The so-called ‘Liberated’ survived Malahkma’s defeat as well.” He gave an amused snort. “‘Liberated.’ They are nothing more than his bid to enter the world, just as Sidhna was Malahkma’s.”

  “Then who…?” He was seelie. He was made from faerie souls pulled together by a mote of the Dragon’s spirit. The Dragon… bound in the Otherworld. Her eyes widened in terror as realization dawned on her.

  He grinned. “Yes, you know,” he said. “Your spirit—Graelyn’s spirit—preserved and gave new life to all the pieces that fell to Ahmbren when the Otherworld shattered. All its pieces. Including me. You Three bound me there.”

  “You’re his dreamwalker,” she moaned. She closed her eyes. “You’re…” she couldn’t bring herself to say his name.

  Not the Green! Not the Green!

  For nothing. All for nothing.

  The Black Dragon.

  “Yes.” He curled his lips back from his teeth in a feral grin. “I am Klrain.”

  EPILOGUE

  The Passing of the Seal

  All the priests in Windbowl had felt Athra’s awakening the moment it happened. They didn’t understand what it meant, but Suleima immediately knew that, whatever it was, it had happened at her and Aradma’s home in the hills. She suspected that whatever reason they had kept her away had come to pass.

  She rode hard towards the stone cabin and found Rajamin’s pony outside the garden. He had made it there ahead of her.

  She was running into the garden when she saw her mentor stab Kaldor in the back. She stopped, stunned. Then she witnessed Oriand stab Rajamin in the back, and then move beside Kaldor. She saw the construct walk out of the house.

  The metallic woman stopped in front of her. “I am Athra,” she said. “Follow me, Priestess of Rin.”

  Suleima took one look at her, and then ran past to help Kaldor. She bathed him in the healing light from her runes, praying to Rin. When sh
e turned her head back, Athra was gone.

  She stabilized Kaldor, but she knew she had only postponed the inevitable.

  Attaris arrived a few moments later. He had sensed the event as well. He too had known enough to guess where it had happened. He added Modhrin’s healing magic, buying Kaldor some more time, but nothing they could do would save him. Kaldor had challenged the gods.

  They were able to get Kaldor back to Windbowl on a cart. The flying carpet wouldn’t work for anyone else, so Yinkle dusted off the small ratling landing craft she had kept when the larger ship they had taken from Kallanista nine years ago fell into disrepair. She returned two days later with Arda and Anuit. Kristafrost and Eszhira remained in Artalon to continue their work.

  Kaldor lay on his back, covered in blankets. He was able to drink water and eat soft porridge. Arda never left his side during his final days, and Anuit never left hers.

  Before he died, he took Arda’s hand.

  “There is something I must give you before I go,” he said.

  She placed her other hand on top of his. Anuit stood against the far wall.

  “Oh, don’t look so sad,” he told them both. “I’ve lived a very long life. My work is done. It is mortal fate.”

  Arda sniffled. “But you are the Gold Dragon.”

  Kaldor smiled. “The Dragon is dead. But there is one last thing of his that I have. When the Archdragons grew into the fullness of their power, they created magical seals to bind themselves to their respective elements. They joined with their elemental sources and became living symbols. The seal was a two-way connection, a thing born of a union. The Archdragons were transformed by their elements, but the elements also took on the character of the Archdragons. I gave my link to the Light away long ago, and I no longer have its power to give. But Archurion’s seal is still imprinted upon my soul.”

  “What does that mean?” Anuit asked.

  “It means, in a magical sense, I am the Light,” he said. “Practically, it means very little. When I surrendered my link to Aaron, I lost my ability to channel. But I still have the Gold Dragon’s seal. I bear Archurion’s authority as the Seal of Light. It means that for any magical rite that requires the authority invested in the seal, the magic of the universe recognizes me. All the Archdragons had become the seals of their elements. Before I die, I wish that mine be passed to you.” He coughed.