When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  It is 9450. I am the last and have passed seventy winters in Artalon. I was born here. I will die here. I hope the price of our pact will prove worth it, but I shall never know. The war is far from over. All I can say is that we have survived. We have proved strong and turned the tide against the High Elven Imperium. Now it is our turn to conduct genocide. Is this what we wanted?

  Yes. The truth is, nothing would fill me with greater pleasure than to see our enemy utterly destroyed. I did not used to think this way. It is the Dark taken root in my soul… I have become truly evil, and even knowing it, I love it. And even as I love it, I hate myself for loving it. This will be my punishment. I will die. I will kill myself, and my incubus, Kokhabaal, will ascend to become the final of the twelve demon Lords of Dis.

  Thank Keruhn—yes, I dare to evoke the name of the Consoler, even though I hate those who cling to his worship, and I know the Gods of Light have no fondness for me—that my daughter—Tal Harun’s daughter—was born before we made the pacts. She is still blessedly human. She has mastered the sorcerous arts as well as any of us, but she does not bear the darkling marks. She can hide through the ages.

  People of Artalon, win our war against the sidhe, but do not lose yourself as we have. Be wary of the demons of Dis. They are not to be trusted.

  We noticed it slowly at first. As lesser sorcerers died in the war, the ranks of Dis swelled.

  We have hidden this very library from the Lords of Dis. They ripped away the temporal records of Artalon’s creation, for they saw a threat to themselves, a means by which we might control the gods and rise higher than the Dark Lord himself. We never discovered its secret. The answers lie in Dis, but only those who do not succumb to demons have a hope of uncovering it.

  There are two grave dangers to sorcery. As I have stated, demons are not to be trusted. They are bound to our fates, and if we are to die before they achieve their purpose, they die with us. Their purpose is not to drag our souls to Dis for torment—indeed, there is no eternal life; they are right on that matter, by the Shadow they are right. Their purpose is to survive us. Each demon strives against each other for the sorcerer’s affection, at the same time bringing the sorcerer into greater despair, self-loathing, and corruption. Now, eleven of the Circle of Twelve have taken their own lives in order to give their essence to their favored demon. They granted their last servitors immortal life even as their lesser servitors perish with them.

  The tragedy is, for most, we see the game at the end, and we are so twisted we choose it anyway. I am no different. I love and hate my incubus, as I do myself. I knew I should not have taken him into my bed, but my heart ached for Tal Harun. I foolishly thought that once with the incubus couldn’t hurt, but then twice, and then… he made me feel young again; he made me forget Tal Harun… and that was years ago. Soon, I will surrender myself to him. I will take my own life so that he might live forever, for no matter what I can do, I cannot escape the thrilling joy of the ecstasy I will feel the moment I give to the incubus everything I possibly can. I am eager for it, and I despise that I don’t care.

  One by one, we fell, and one by one the prime demon of each of the Circle became a Lord or Lady of Dis, under the command of the Dark Lord. The sorcerers we trained died in battle with the sidhe before they were corrupted—they were clean deaths. They did not swell the ranks of Dis. But those who survived long enough, well… the city of Dis has more citizens serving its masters now than it did when we first journeyed to meet the Dark Lord thirty years ago.

  Oriand paused for a moment. That was 9450. Archurion didn’t sink Artalon until 10,452, after the Darkling Empire had spanned the stars to other worlds. Dis’s ranks would have grown indeed. She continued reading.

  Nevertheless, I have set the seeds for our liberation and revenge. My daughter, Leera, is an accomplished sorceress. I have discovered a way for her to cheat death and the seduction of demons. She bore a child, and when the girl was of age, I showed my daughter how to cast out the girl’s soul and transfer her consciousness to take possession of the younger body. All she needs is to continue and travel through the line of her own descendants, and one day she will return here, when the time is right, and enter Dis, discover Artalon’s secrets, and use the power of the gods to destroy the Demon City. To preserve and protect my daughter from her own servitors, I have used my own power to weaken her demons, Ariontes and Macthogos.

  I have hidden parts of a sorcery pattern that will open a pathway through the Void to Dis itself, in the sixth chapter of the sixth volume of each of the twelve Legacies of the Circle. The key to reveal each passage is…

  The text trailed off into more sorcerous patterns that Oriand couldn’t decipher.

  This rite requires vast reserves of Dark power, more than any one sorcerer can channel. However, with each new daughter’s body possessed, Leera will grow stronger. After many generations, she will have the power to accomplish this rite on her own and steal Dis’s secrets. I will hide this library from even my own kind. Only she will have the secret key to unlocking these halls when she returns with enough power to enter the Demon City.

  Oriand recalled from her other readings that the Artalonian sorcerers had not discovered the secrets of necromancy until centuries later, shortly before they started joining worlds. She wondered if they had considered joining Artalon to Dis, but she had not read accounts of that anywhere. Regardless, the halls had been well hidden.

  I have yet to mention the second grave danger of sorcery. This one, I cannot protect Leera against. It is the corruption of the Dark itself. She knows to be careful and not indulge in the power; I did not. There is a malice in the heart of the Dark that infects us all—I feel it, and I have come to relish the thrill of feeding it. I believe now that the malice and the rage that drives it comes from the Dark Lord himself and corrupts the Dark, even as the Dark corrupts the Dark Lord and all who draw upon its power. It seeps into your mind, pulling your regrets to the surface. I see Tal Harun every day now, in the corner of my eye, but when I look he is never there. Tricks of the Shadow.

  Leera knows. She is careful. I only hope it won’t be too long for her to gather the needed power.

  My servants tell me Tal Harun returns to Artalon. After all these years, he thinks to save me from my fate, but it is too late. I go now to give my life to Kokhabaal. Any love I once had for Tal Harun died long ago.

  Desdemona hadn’t counted on Artalon being destroyed by the Gold Dragon, that was for sure. Oriand was quite convinced after reading as much as she had here that the Artalonians did not believe such things as dragons even existed, and certainly not the fabled Four. They paid some mind to the gods, but it seemed as if dragons had faded out of the accepted mythology of the time. Probably because they weren’t part of the Kairantheum and didn’t care to keep feeding myths about themselves. Regardless, from what Kaldor had told them when he was alive, the last Artalonian sorcerers laughed at Archurion when he appeared to them to warn them about the Black Dragon.

  Oriand frowned for a moment. Her earlier happiness had not faded, despite the grim reading, and in the clarity it brought she realized something. She wasn’t sure, but she had to check.

  She closed all the books on her desk, and checked the spine of each of them. Then she went to the bookshelves. There were twelve Legacies of the Circle, each a multivolume work of dozens.

  Every sixth volume is missing!

  How could she have missed this before? Because she wasn’t thinking clearly. The shadow of this place’s misery had gotten to her, though perhaps not as much as Arda and Anuit. It was only just now, when she had taken a moment to realize and accept her happiness with life, that the shadow receded. She had forgiven herself, letting go of all her past guilt, and finally accepted who she was. In truth, she had already done this, but now its acknowledgment seemed enough to ward her against the Dark in these halls.

  She hurried back to her desk—

  It’s gone!

  The small leather journal. Desdemona’s
confession. It was not where she had left it.

  She searched around her desk. Maybe it had fallen over.

  No, it hadn’t. She wasn’t imagining things. The book was gone.

  A jolt of fear returned. Not missing.

  Stolen.

  * * *

  Anuit found herself being shaken until she raised her head grumpily from her slumber on the book’s cover. Arda still snored on her lap. The sorceress was about to have a serious yelling at Oriand for waking her so, but her anger vanished when she saw worry on the troll’s face.

  Anuit scrambled to her feet, accidentally kicking Arda awake in the process. Arda sat back groggily, blinking her eyes. Suddenly, she stood, poised and alert. Anuit was envious of her ability to do that so quickly. It was part of her paladin’s connection to the Light, no doubt.

  “What is it?” Anuit asked the troll woman. She leaned forward and placed her hands on the desk for support. Her body still hadn’t quite caught up with her mind’s sudden wakefulness.

  “Someone’s stealing books!” Oriand exclaimed frantically. She was so excited, her voice had nearly risen to a yell.

  “What?” Anuit asked. That made no sense.

  “I found a journal and was reading it. It was by Desdemona. It referenced a way, through sorcery, to open a pathway to Dis. It said there were pieces of the formula hidden throughout the sixth volume of each of the Legacies. I went looking for them, but they’re all gone! None of the six are here, and I missed it before!”

  Anuit exhaled in relief. Oriand must simply have been tired and overwrought with this place. “Maybe they’ve been lost,” Anuit suggested, “or removed from the library.”

  Arda stretched. “Really, Oriand, did you need to wake us up for this? It could have waited for morning.”

  “No!” Oriand insisted. “When I got back to my desk, Desdemona’s journal was gone!”

  Anuit stared at her. “Are you… sure?”

  Arda also stilled. “Maybe you had fallen asleep and were dreaming?”

  “No!” Oriand practically shouted in frustration. “I was not dreaming. Check for yourself! None of the sixth volumes are here.” She pressed her palms flat on Anuit’s desk and leaned over, coming face to face with the sorceress. “And besides. When have you ever known me to lose a book!”

  Anuit knew she was right. If Oriand said a book had been there, it had been there. If it was now gone, then someone, or something, was playing tricks on them. It was as if something didn’t want them to find this last bit of knowledge.

  Which meant this was the bit of knowledge they needed to find.

  Anuit saw Bryona slinking at the far hall in the shadows. Bryona looked at her with her own worried expression.

  “Come here!” Anuit commanded her succubus. “What do you know about this?” The demons knew. She was sure of it.

  Bryona fidgeted. Her wings shuddered, and she nervously tightened and loosened her hands over the parasol’s wooden handle. Her knuckles stretched white.

  “Speak!” Anuit commanded. Anger filled her.

  “I wanted to tell you,” Bryona said, “but I’m afraid.”

  “Tell me what? Afraid of what?”

  The succubus looked around into the shadows as if she knew something was watching. “Belham. He’s been working for the Lords of Dis all along,” she said. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And they serve Yamosh now. Belham’s been hiding the books they don’t want you to find. They’re going to punish me for telling you.”

  “Then why did you answer so quickly?” Oriand asked skeptically.

  “She has no choice,” Anuit murmured absently. “I’m her master. She’s compelled to answer direct questions.” Then she asked, “What do you mean, they serve Yamosh now?”

  “When Klrain was re-bound in dragonsleep after Artalon fell,” Bryona answered, “his dreamwalker too was bound in the Otherworld. His dreamwalker had been the King of Dis, but then the Demon City was without a ruler. Yamosh stepped in and bent the Lords of Dis to his will. He has ruled them for over ten thousand years.”

  Anuit nodded. Then she reached out to her dark bond and shouted, “Belham!” She uttered the demonic words that would summon him to her presence, no matter where he was off to.

  He appeared in a swirl of smoke, hovering stoically in front of her. As always, his wings did not move, and his indigo six-inch form, a perfectly chiseled man, slowly drifted up and down.

  He hugged a small leather book to his chest.

  Anuit held out her hand. Even though his face showed no expression, she felt the fear roiling off him. His fear felt good to her.

  He surrendered the book, and she opened it. She sat and placed it on the table until its temporal blurring settled and then read page by page.

  She got to the end, then turned back to the beginning of the book, reading it through a second time.

  The silence in the hall almost roared in her ears. She heard a high thrumming of white noise and the waiting breaths of Arda and Oriand.

  Anuit looked up. She saw Belham had lost his stoic composure and stared balefully at Bryona. Bryona actually shrank back against the far wall.

  Anuit returned her eyes to the page. She kept reading and rereading five words.

  …her demons, Ariontes and Macthogos.

  “Ariontes and Macthogos,” she stated.

  When they didn’t answer, she repeated even louder, “Ariontes and Macthogos!”

  Arda and Oriand looked at her with trepidation. Belham had lost all composure, and his limbs fidgeted as he hovered. He looked left and right, trying to avoid Anuit’s gaze.

  “I don’t understand,” Arda said. “What does that mean?”

  “Those are demon names,” Anuit stated with a deadly calm. “Demons I knew. It means the one who taught me was Leera. I killed her.”

  Anuit opened her palm, and a tendril of shadow shot forth and grabbed Belham, pulling him into her grasp. She squeezed his small frame. She felt him want to—try to—vanish, but her will blocked him from his power.

  “You knew Marta was Leera,” she accused. “How?”

  Belham squirmed. “I had no choice!” he squealed. “The Lords of Dis! When they made me from your soul, they commanded me to spy on her. They told me who she was.”

  “Why?” Anuit demanded. “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

  Belham’s face twisted in fear. “They’ll unmake me!” he protested. “Please, don’t command me to betray them!”

  “By the Shadow, I command you!” Anuit snapped.

  It was as if two warring bonds competed within his small frame. His struggle surprised her, and she realized he had been bonded to more than one being. She had never been his sole master. The Lords of Dis also commanded him.

  She touched the Dark through the dead-soul matter in the room, calling upon the necromantic arts that Belham himself had taught her, and jammed that power through her bond.

  Belham shuddered, and she felt the competing bond fall away.

  “The Lords of Dis found Leera in the body of her descendant, Marta,” he whispered. “They knew Leera’s vow to open the gates of Dis. They knew Leera wanted to use Artalon to destroy them and the Demon City. They knew Artalon had been restored by the God-King and that this hidden archive had also returned. They wanted her erased, so the secret to unlocking this library would die with her. They also knew she only needed one more life before she had the power necessary to channel a pathway to Dis. Seredith would have been her last, and then all she would have had to do would be to return to Artalon. Aradma’s blood held enough potency that she would have lived a long time in Seredith’s body, possibly even become immortal. Then, she would have had all the time in the world to make her way back to these halls and learn the rite.

  “I learned the way to this library from Ariontes. He knew what his mistress knew. She had not been able to keep that secret from her incubus. They helped me betray her and kept her from discovering that I continued to train you. They hated serving her for gen
erations without end, and wanted her to die, even if it meant their own deaths. They knew they would never be accepted back into Dis, even if they did win her essence in the end. But they were bound to her will and could not fight her directly, so they gave me the key to finding this archive.”

  “All this time,” Anuit said. “All those years, and you knew of this place.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would you keep this from me?”

  “They made me, mistress,” he cringed pitiably. “They had one more purpose for you, for you to bring me to Artalon so I could destroy the books with the formula. They want the pathway to Dis closed to Artalon forever. They want the secret to Artalon preserved.”

  “And then?”

  “They promised me they would grant me eternal life in Dis if I betrayed you.”

  “Where are the books?” Anuit asked.

  His face contorted in fear. “They are gone, mistress. It is done. I have destroyed them.”

  Anuit shook her head. She knew her imp better than that. “But you have read the formula.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Reveal it to me.”

  “Anuit—” Arda interrupted, concern in her voice.

  Anuit waved her hand sharply through the air to shush her lover. “Reveal its secret to me,” she commanded the imp.

  She felt a resurgence of that other bond within him, flooded with fresh power. She had earned the focus of the Lords of Dis, and she felt the power of the Demon City behind that bond.

  Slowly, her grip over the imp opened, pried loose by the demon lords.

  “They can’t grant you eternal life,” Anuit said, recalling Desdemona’s words. “They lied to you. Only I can do that, and I will never let you go.”

  She transformed, dark energy streaming over her body and overshadowing her countenance. Claws burst from her fingers, and her visage widened as rows of teeth erupted from her jaws. She remembered when Khiighun and Thoknos had died, the piece of her soul that had formed them returned to her.