When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  Keira grinned at him.

  But the dragon in the ice clearing stood as a reminder that this was not a different age. These were not ordinary times.

  The dragon isn’t the only sign.

  He touched his fingers to his antlers again. The god had faith in him. It was reversed, somehow, for the first time in three ages. And it wasn’t just the antlers. He himself was a sign. And his sons. And the whole seelie race. These were signs of the times, and something was brewing that would change Ahmbren forever. He had a growing suspicion that the world had not yet seen the fruits of this age, and that his race was not the quiet result of history, but the beginnings of an explosive initiation of Ahmbren herself. And then there was the Seal of Time stamped upon his spirit.

  Tiberan tensed as he felt lifeforms moving beneath them, far away at first, and then closer.

  “Troglodytes!” he shouted. “They are coming for us!”

  Keira bounded forth. “Eldrian, Jossin!” She was with them in two pounces, grabbing each of their sons and holding them tight. She jumped onto Kreen’s back, and the dragon spread his wings.

  Kreen caught the cold wind gusts and rose into the air just as the ground beneath them disintegrated into a sinkhole and a swarm of troglodytes emerged.

  Tiberan was already loosing arrows into the mass of reptilian warriors, and Cloudpaw reared back on his hind legs, roaring and waiving his forepaws.

  The subterranean warriors spread out over the snow, more than Tiberan could readily count. Their gleaming chitin armor shone glossy black over the white ground. Keira and his sons were out of their reach now, flying overhead on Kreen.

  Four troglodytes fell with arrows in their necks, but it was not nearly enough. Cloudpaw rushed up beside the elf.

  Get on my back, the bear insisted.

  Tiberan nodded, and then they sped off as troglodytes continued to swarm over the snow towards them. Ghost ran ahead, following the flattened snow trails they had used in their hunting.

  Troglodyte arrows zipped by Tiberan’s ears, narrowly missing his skull. He felt them gaining on him, and it would only be a matter of time before they were overrun.

  So many! he thought. They normally don’t come out this far with so many.

  There had been a handful of troglodyte contacts with hearths on the plains in the winter months, but they were usually half a dozen or less at a time, a manageable number for Glavlunder hunters to handle. Sometimes the hearth perished, sometimes they won. Thankfully, so far no dragons had been lost.

  He knew it would be over in minutes, maybe less. On all fours, the troglodytes ran faster than Cloudpaw could in the snow. He warranted they might even be faster than Keira’s wolven running.

  Up ahead of him, he saw the distant orange dot of Kreen descend. The dragon swept low and rushed forward towards him, jaws opening. Orange flame spilled past his teeth, leaving a trail of sparks behind. Kreen flew low and, in a flashy gust of wind, shot past the elven hunter, just missing Tiberan’s antlers by little more than a yard.

  Tiberan turned to look over his shoulder.

  In that moment, his heart surged. Time slowed for the first time in years since he had rescued Keira from the avalanche. Then, it had been fear and unacknowledged love that triggered his power. This time, it was awe.

  In slowed motion, he saw the dragon slightly dip in flight and open his jaws wide. A hot stream of molten fire scoured the oncoming rush of troglodytes. Tiberan witnessed each finger of flame catch the subterranean warriors and saw the cold determination in their eyes shift to alarm, then to pain, as the fire consumed them and melted the flesh beneath their scales.

  Time returned to its normal flow. The surviving troglodytes scattered, but with two more passes, Kreen finished off the stragglers. In an uncharacteristic surge of emotion, Tiberan laughed aloud. He slowed Cloudpaw to a stop and gazed in wonder on the scorched land, continuing to chuckle in joyful giddiness.

  Such power. No wonder they worshipped us, he thought as Graelyn’s memories surfaced to the forefront of his mind. For the first time, his spark of Graelyn had witnessed a dragon’s might from the other side, after having been mortal. And Kreen was but a child! How much more powerful would he grow in the centuries to come?

  The Dragon’s perspective shifted away, and he was Tiberan once more. The other dragons will be growing strong as well, he reflected.

  Kreen circled around them, his wings held out to their full expanse. As he banked, Tiberan saw his family and met Keira’s eyes, glinting with her own savage joy. Kreen descended in a graceful spiral until he drew up short and alighted on all fours. His wings slowly furled themselves, and he gazed serenely at Tiberan.

  Keira dismounted and placed Eldrian and Jossin on the ground. She shifted into her human form and ran towards Tiberan. He jumped off Cloudpaw’s back, equally moved to rush towards her. They embraced, and he spun her around in his arms, holding her fiercely. They couldn’t help but laugh and grin as they kissed. The sudden danger, the swift action, and the abrupt and absolute victory that kept their family safe was intoxicating.

  Kreen walked slowly towards Tiberan, all four feet stepping proudly over the melted snow. His tail swept behind him, and he held his head tall. His wings remained folded loosely at his side, held deliberately as if ready to spread and catch the wind at any moment. He stopped, and young though he was, his head tilted to look down and address them.

  “Indeed, we are no longer eggs,” he said. His voice did not emanate from his mouth, but from two openings beneath his ear holes. The tone of his voice penetrated Tiberan’s body and reverberated in the elf’s bones. “And Keira is right. This will not last.”

  Tiberan nodded, holding his wife close to him. “We have waited too long,” he agreed.

  “You waited because the time was right for waiting. And hiding,” Kreen replied. “But that time is over. We are no longer eggs, nor are we hatchlings. We are dragons.”

  “Tiberan, you must gather the hearths,” Keira said. She reached up and touched one of his antlers. “They will listen to you. They already listen to you, but now you bear the mark of our god. We will follow you to Dis if you ask it.”

  “Will you fight at our side?” Tiberan asked the dragon.

  Kreen dipped his head once in acknowledgement. “Need you ask, Huntersson? We live because of you.”

  “Then, my friend,” the seelie declared, “we will retake Faerieholm, even if we must burn every troglodyte from the holes of Ahmbren.”

  Tiberan flew with his family on the back of Kreen as they traveled from hearth to hearth. Jossin was strapped to the harness on his back, and he held Keira, just as she held Eldrian in front of her. Ghost and Cloudpaw slowly made their way on foot with most of their possessions and would meet them in Faerieholm in the coming months. Kreen had allowed a few bags to be strapped to his own back.

  They soared over endless hills of snow and ice. From the sky it looked like beautiful, smooth cream had been spread over the land, rather than the rugged treacherous terrain it was from the ground. There was not a cloud in the sky, and wisps of heat that drifted from the dragon’s mouth tempered the icy air that rushed past them.

  Tiberan held Keira close to him. She sat in her human body, leaning back against his chest. He kissed the top of her hooded head through the scarf that covered his lips and allowed his mind to wander over the years they had shared together…

  That first winter, Keira and he had stayed true to their intent. They had hunted together as companions and shared a hearth to survive the winter. They were friends, and not mates, and had returned thus to Hearthmoot the following summer.

  Illeski and Esteri had been happy to see them again with the other hearths, but even more importantly, every egg which had been entrusted to the safety of a hearth had made it back. Then, that summer in the middle of Hearthmoot, the eggs unexpectedly hatched. The little hatchlings bonded with the hearth that sheltered them, as if they knew which two Glavlunders had kept the protective watch through the
course of the long winter. Kreen had hatched from the egg that Tiberan and Keira had kept safe.

  True to her word, that first year Keira had not left her wolven form until they returned to Hearthmoot the following summer. Esteri had asked Tiberan if he wanted to dissolve their hearth, and he had said no. He surmised that she had asked Keira the same thing.

  By the end of the summer, they had sat down to discuss their intents for the winter. Again, they agreed to be each other’s companion and keep the fires of friendship together. They spread out once more over the plains and made igloos at the hunting grounds. They tended the little dragon hatchling, which had been born the size of a finger and had grown to the size of a hand in three months.

  In October that second winter, a party of six troglodytes had found them. Keira was alone in the igloo and Tiberan was just outside when the troglodytes burst up into the floor of their icy hearth home. She fought back, and Tiberan rushed inside with his sidhe daggers. The two of them fought swift and hard, prevailing even though they were outnumbered.

  The blood of their enemies covered his knives and her claws, and her jaws were black with troglodyte gore. The bloodlust and rush of victory took both of them, and in that moment Tiberan felt through their bond her longing for him turn to pure lust. He reacted to her desire, his excitement heightened by the thrill of battle victory.

  He took her there amid the blood of his enemies, grabbing her in wolven form and pressing her to the ground. He touched her spirit through their bond and urged her back into her human body.

  She did not protest as he pulled the elven trousers off her legs. She looked up over her shoulder at him as he took her from behind, her eyes mixed with the light of longing, sorrow, resignation, and fulfillment all warring with each other. He could no longer feel her through the bond in her human form.

  Afterwards, they lay side by side, breathing heavily. He could tell then she was uncertain.

  “You know I’m yours,” she finally said as they lay in the dark together amid the freezing corpses of their enemies. “But are you truly mine?”

  He looked at her in that moment, and knew he loved her. His feelings for Aradma had not faded, but they had been put away as a memory from another time. He decided then he would not mourn the loss of the seelie druid forever. He had his own life to live, and here was a woman who wanted to live it with him. She was honorable, she was strong, she was a hunter… and he loved her in return. It was not the same kind of love he had felt for Aradma. It was not that immediate soul connection that flashed in undeniable demand. This love was the kind that grew from deep friendship into deep affection. Its seeds had been planted over a year earlier, and through mutual affection and respect, it had deepened in their time together. We have Hearth together.

  He’d then put his hands on her waist and lifted her on top of him so that she straddled his hips. He entered her again. “I am yours,” he told her.

  “Please don’t break my heart,” she said, and she leaned forward and kissed his lips.

  He held her close. “We are hearthmates now in truth,” he whispered in her ear, “in every way. I promise I will never leave you.”

  She kissed him again, and he felt salty teardrops fall on his cheeks as they made love.

  Eldrian was born a full seelie male the following June, right before they returned to Hearthmoot. When they arrived, Keira holding the babe in human arms, Esteri just gave Tiberan a smug wink.

  The dreams of the Green Dragon’s torture at Klrain’s hand in the Otherworld never left his nights, but with Keira there, they were but hazy murmurings as he slept. Instead of waking with cold panic, he now rose every dawn with only a sense of unease that faded throughout each day.

  Tiberan returned from his reverie as they approached the first cluster of hearths. Kreen circled and landed, and Tiberan was glad to see that two of the hearths had dragons.

  He hopped off Kreen’s back and set Jossin on the ground. Osku, Illeski’s hearthmaker, emerged from one of the igloos.

  When he saw Tiberan’s stag antlers, he fell to his knees. “You have been marked by the god!” he exclaimed. “Such a thing has not happened in ten thousand years!”

  Tiberan brought the man to his feet. “Do not kneel,” the seelie insisted. “I am no god. I would speak with you and Illeski. He is hunting on the ice?”

  Osku nodded. The man actually gaped at the elf. Then he remembered himself. “Please, come inside and share the warmth of our hearth until Illeski returns.”

  Tiberan followed Oksu inside along with the rest of his family.

  Enveloped by the ice walls, Oksu gave them strips of salted, smoked fish while they waited. The other hearthmakers of the neighboring igloos crowded inside as well.

  “How did this happen?” Osku asked Tiberan. “What does this mean.”

  Tiberan held his hand up. “I will answer your questions, but let us wait until the hunters return.”

  Osku nodded. They made small talk about their children and the hunts they’d had that winter to pass the time. It was not long, only a couple hours, before Illeski returned with the other hunters.

  When he entered and saw Tiberan, his eyes widened in worry. He immediately sat cross-legged at Osku’s side. Folding his hands over his lap, he remained silent and demure. Tiberan had never seen the huntmaster behave in such a way before. He didn’t even ask a question, but waited patiently for Tiberan to speak.

  The seelie took a deep breath. “Yes, Keruhn visited me,” he told them. He might as well be honest about it. “But that is not why I am here.”

  They still said nothing, just stared at him as if it were the most natural thing for them to be listening rather than giving him advice as they usually liked to do.

  “The business between Keruhn and myself is a private matter, for another time,” he explained. “The god marked me for a task, which I intend to carry out. However, before that, there is something we must do as a people.”

  Still, the Glavlunders sat silently.

  “The troglodytes came for us today,” he said. “Not just one or two, but a host of them. They are moving out over the plains and looking for us. For our dragons. They have made a fatal mistake. Our dragons are no longer hatchlings. They are strong now. They can fight back, and so can we. It’s time we retake Faerieholm.”

  Illeski suddenly grinned. “Yes!” the huntmaster exclaimed. He jumped to his feet excitedly. “I have always wanted to reclaim our ancestral home, and we will do so with dragons!” He almost giggled, which was funny to see in the older man. “And it is fitting,” he lowered his voice, eyes gleaming with shrewd mirth, “that Tiberan Huntersson leads us.”

  Huntersson. That was the second time he had heard that title. The dragon had used it. Had Kreen known what to expect? He had no desire to become a religious icon to the Glavlunders, but he was not sure how he could avoid it. A glimmer of religious fervor and pride returned to Keira’s eyes as she looked at Tiberan, and he shifted uncomfortably.

  Tiberan shook his head and prepared to protest, but Osku cut him off. “We know what you would say,” the male witch told him. “We know you are no god, but you bear his mark. You have been chosen by him for a purpose, and we will do what you ask. For us, you have become Huntersson, the guide sent by Keruhn. It matters not whether you see it so. The fact remains, we will follow you.”

  “Besides,” Illeski added, “you have proven yourself worthy many times over. You are capable and brave. You should be huntmaster, for you have not sought power. Now authority is yours, and it is easy for us to accept Keruhn’s choice of a guide.”

  Tiberan took a deep breath and then nodded. “Then tomorrow, those of us with dragons will fly. We will spread the word to the other hearths to journey and meet us in Faerieholm. And once all the hearths are on the move, those of us with dragons will fly ahead and descend upon the Ice Mountains and cleanse the troglodytes from our land.”

  One of the other hearthmakers frowned uncertainly. “There are only forty dragons, and ea
ch of them would only carry two Glavlunders,” he said. “Will it be enough?”

  Tiberan grinned. “You haven’t seen real dragon fire yet. It will be enough.”

  It was a matter of weeks for them to spread the word among the scattered hearths, an impossible feat had it not been for the dragons’ swift wings. Once the Glavlunders had all begun to move eastward, Tiberan led the flight of forty through the sky over the Ice Plains.

  Outside the mountains, they first stopped in Glavlund on the beach by the sea. There they dropped a few hearthmakers and the children to keep them far from the battle to come. Keira remained behind with Eldrian and Jossin—she would have it no other way. Tiberan kissed her before they left, and then he and Kreen took to the sky again.

  Forty dragons descended into the crags of the Ice Mountains. Tiberan flew at the head of the dragonflight as they circled over Faerieholm. He urged Kreen to descend until he could reach out with his senses and feel where the masses of troglodytes crawled.

  The Glavlunder homeland was infested with the creatures, both aboveground and belowground. Tunnels had been burrowed out, making the mountainsides look like weird rocky cheese. They looked up and saw Tiberan on Kreen’s back as he flew towards them.

  Some raised spears. Others scurried for shelter.

  Kreen widened his mouth, and a hot stream of dragon fire melted through the troglodyte horde. The other dragons joined their fire to Kreen’s, and the rocks around Faerieholm were burned clean of the troglodyte infestation.

  They landed, and Tiberan stepped off of Kreen’s back. Something was wrong. Tiberan knew there should be more; the fight should have been much tougher. There were tunnels bored through these mountains now like cheesecloth, but they were empty.

  Even now, he could feel the mass of troglodytes’ life force roll away from the surface and deep into the depths of Ahmbren.

  “I don’t like it,” he said to Kreen. “It’s as if they’ve been…”