When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  Anuit withdrew into silent thought at this.

  They continued on their journey, climbing ever higher through cavern and tunnel. Arda and Anuit had moved ahead, leaving Tiberan and Aradma space to talk quietly. Aradma kept looking at him; she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She just wanted to run her fingers through his beard, and the antlers that now adorned his forehead excited her.

  “I feel it too,” he said, answering her thoughts.

  She started. “What? How do you—?”

  “It’s obvious.” He gave her a soft smile. “We both feel the attraction. It never died.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. “Oh, Tiberan. What are we going to do? I don’t want to hurt Keira.” Despite remembering who she was as Graelyn’s dreamwalker, he had a way of making her feel so young.

  “Aradma,” he said softly, lovingly. “You know I will always love you. I cherish that you feel the same for me. But I made a promise to Keira, and I love her too. Not in the same way, perhaps, but it is real, even after seeing you again. She and I have been through too much together for me to walk away. I love her, Aradma. I’m her husband.” He paused for a moment. Then: “But you and I… we will live for centuries. All things are possible, in time.”

  Aradma took a deep breath. “Yes, I understand,” she said. “I accept it is not yet our time.”

  “We will be together,” he promised. “But not yet.”

  She stared down at the ground as she walked. “No, not yet,” she agreed. Disappointment and understanding washed through her, painting a strange color in her mind. But through it, she was still happy.

  Tiberan is ALIVE!

  Nature would take its course, and their love, as natural and truthful as anything on Ahmbren had ever been, would be realized in its time. She would be patient and take joy in knowing Tiberan had found happiness with Keira.

  And in that moment, Aradma was happy for the both of them.

  There was only one thing remaining that troubled her heart, gnawing at the happiness. She had missed so much of Fernwalker’s life, and the anticipation of seeing her again stretched so taut it caught her breath short. And, Naiadne. Her heart twisted, and she shed a single tear.

  They made their way up to Windbowl, emerging amid the Windmane Mountains.

  Aradma stopped as she stepped out into sunlight for the first time in a decade. She sucked in breath and closed her eyes, turning her face to the clear blue sky and the yellow orb high overhead. She opened her arms and held her palms to the sun, drinking in its rays.

  Still with her eyes closed, she breathed in the fresh scent of pine and stepped forward. With each step, she left footprints of flowers and grasses, growing as her companions watched.

  She turned to them, opening her eyes, and grinned. “Life!” she exclaimed. “Oh, I have missed the sun!” In its rays, she remembered Kaldor’s touch and the warmth of his love, and his memory fulfilled her.

  She looked into Tiberan’s face, seeing the touch of sunlight on his skin and the lines of shadow from his stag horns. He too held a radiance, with his copper skin and golden hair, and she saw a similar quality of spirit. He, like her, was of the Green Dragon, but in that moment she felt Light in him and knew he held a nobility learned from Graelyn’s love of Archurion. The Gold Dragon had touched both of them, in his own way, and not just through Kaldor. Love transformed lovers, and Tiberan held that spark of Graelyn that had chosen to love Archurion and be transformed by him, even as Graelyn’s love had transformed the Gold Dragon in return.

  He understood, she thought. When he saw me with Kaldor, a part of him remembered loving Archurion. That was why he could step aside. In his own way, he loved Kaldor too, even if he didn’t understand why.

  “Dragons are here,” Tiberan said. “I can feel them.”

  “Dragons?” Anuit asked.

  “Valkrage preserved their eggs, and my tribe has guarded them,” Tiberan replied. “I came here with one, but I can feel more now. Something has happened.”

  “Shall I fly ahead?” Aradma asked.

  “No,” Tiberan said. “Let us go together. I believe it important for us to not act alone.”

  “I agree,” Arda said. “You might be strong—all of us are—but only together are we capable of ending this conflict. We should be careful to remember that. Kaldor told Anuit and me that it’s in each other that we find our strength.”

  “Yes,” Anuit agreed. “I couldn’t have mastered the Dark without her. I would have fallen like every other sorcerer and sorceress throughout history.”

  Aradma felt wisdom in their words.

  They walked into the valley kingdom, following Whitesea Road east towards the city. As they descended into the valley, they saw the tops of Castle Windbowl’s towers scorched and melted in the distance. Aradma feared what they might find.

  The countryside was unusually empty. “Where is everyone?” Aradma asked.

  “Some are away, fighting the war,” Arda said, “but you’re right. It seems unusually quiet.”

  “The dragons are in the castle,” Tiberan said with a frown. “They razed it. There was a woman, a dead woman…”

  “Seredith!” Aradma exclaimed. “Athaym intended to use her. My blood. He used my blood to make more like her, dead people without faith or hope who couldn’t feed the gods.”

  “But why her?” Anuit asked with concern. They hadn’t parted on good terms, but it was obvious that childhood affection hadn’t completely been erased.

  “She was powerful,” Aradma said. “Few knew how strong, but I saw it before he took me.”

  “She had gone over to him,” Tiberan said. “When I came here, she had covered the castle in spiders. Giant spiders.”

  Aradma shook her head. “Something happened to her. She wouldn’t care for Athaym’s plans.”

  “He got to her,” Tiberan said. “She had others like her. They attacked us when we came, and the dragon Kreen responded. Athaym was there. That’s when he took me. He saw the Seal of Time and seemed to lose interest in her altogether.”

  “And now more dragons have come,” Aradma surmised. “Someone came looking for you.”

  “Keira!” Tiberan exclaimed, eyes widening in realization. “It must be her. She’s here.”

  “Oh, Seredith…” Anuit murmured sadly.

  “Sidhna took Odoune and Fernwalker to the surface,” Aradma said with worry. “I hope… I hope they’re okay. I haven’t seen a single person on the road.”

  “We need to get to the castle,” Arda said. “Let’s not worry until we know what happened.”

  They walked through Windbowl’s city streets towards the castle. On the way, Tiberan told them, “There are people here. I can sense them. They hide in their homes. There are fewer than there should be.”

  With those grim words in mind, no one spoke as they continued to the castle gates. Dragons perched on scorched walls and towers, watching them as they approached.

  “She’s inside,” Tiberan said and ran ahead.

  Aradma and the others followed and saw him rush to embrace Keira inside the courtyard. Aradma’s heart thudded at the sight of Tiberan in another woman’s arms. An orange dragon stood behind the couple, regarding the three approaching women with stern caution.

  “Oh, Tiberan!” Keira exclaimed once she stopped kissing him. “I thought I’d lost you. Kreen said you were taken, and I came here… it was horrible! She had started turning the city into revenants. She was mad.”

  “You’re okay,” Tiberan said, hugging her fiercely. “What happened?”

  Keira smiled and shrugged. “Dragons,” she said by way of explanation. “Seredith’s gone, and the undead have been purged. There are survivors, but it might be a while before they feel comfortable venturing out.”

  “Maybe after the dragons leave,” Arda quipped. The paladin seemed entranced by the sight of the creatures.

  Keira released Tiberan and saw Aradma for the first time. Aradma’s heart quickened. She s
tood uncertainly.

  “Aradma,” Keira acknowledged.

  “Keira,” Aradma answered. “It is good to see you.”

  Keira approached her, and the two women stared at each other for some time. There was a calmness in Keira’s eyes, and a kind of deadly certainty, but there was also affection. Aradma opened herself to the music of Keira’s soul and felt the wolven’s fierce possessiveness and fear that she was about to lose her mate.

  Aradma turned her palms in open acceptance to Keira. “I’m happy for you,” Aradma said. “I’m happy he found someone who loves him as fiercely as you do.”

  Keira started in surprise. She forced a smile. She stepped forward, and then stopped. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said hesitantly. “We didn’t know you had been taken. We thought this whole time you and Kaldor…”

  Aradma hugged her. “It’s okay,” she said. “You couldn’t have known. It’s over now.”

  Keira tensed in Aradma’s embrace. “I’m happy for you both,” Aradma told her again. The girl relaxed somewhat, but Aradma released her, not wishing to add to her discomfort.

  “Can we go home?” Keira asked Tiberan.

  Tiberan shook his head. “We’ve not yet done what must be done. Athaym is dead, but we’ve only just returned from the Underworld. We still need to go to Artalon.”

  Keira frowned. “Oh.” Then: “Do it. Finish Keruhn’s task, Huntersson.”

  Aradma raised an eyebrow. “Keruhn?” Her eyes focused on his antlers, realizing there were still many unanswered questions. Earlier, she had been so focused on him and her surge of love that she hadn’t noticed the golden light of the Kairantheum that coursed through those horns.

  Tiberan had said they were the mark of a god. The more she thought about it, the less it made sense. Now that the initial giddiness of triumphing over Athaym and reuniting with her friends had subsided, she started to think more clearly. Tiberan was not one to be taken in by a god. “Why would you believe in one of them?”

  “I don’t,” Tiberan replied. “He believed in me. He told me we would all go to Artalon.”

  Aradma’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why would he say that?”

  “He wants us to do… whatever it is we’re going to do. He told me I would be needed to unlock the hidden throne room, and that his mark would ensure the gods do not bar our way.”

  “And did he say what he wants you to do or what we’ll find?” Aradma asked.

  “No.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Why would he hide that?”

  Keira frowned. “Keruhn is good,” she said. “I believe in him. He will not lead us wrong. He’s never demanded our worship.”

  “Aradma’s right to question,” Tiberan said softly. “I’ve often thought on this. Keruhn has his own purpose, and one that he didn’t reveal to me. I suspect if he did, I might not have accepted his mark.”

  “Then why?” Aradma challenged.

  “Because I believe in his faith in us,” Tiberan replied. “I know how this sounds. Keruhn said he didn’t know if we would balance or control the gods, but his faith led him to believe that we needed to unlock Artalon, to find the Stag Throne, and that mortals need to choose their own fate. He did not ask for my loyalty or worship. All he asked is that I go there. Keruhn intrigues me, and I would see Artalon’s mystery for myself. If it’s a trap, I intend to spring it. And there was something else in his eyes… I wonder if there’s something beyond this life.”

  “There is no afterlife,” Anuit replied so immediately it appeared reflexive.

  “Sweetie,” Arda said. “How do you know that for sure?”

  Anuit paused for a moment, eyes cast down in thought. She then looked back up at her lover. “I guess I don’t,” she conceded. “But I don’t believe in one.”

  Arda took her hand. “I don’t know that I do either, but I hope for one.” The paladin turned to the hunter. “What you say rings strong for me. It makes me believe in the gods’ potential for good, and even more, I think we should choose balance.”

  Anuit shook her head. “We cannot trust the gods. We need to make sure they protect us from Those Who Dwell Beyond. If they turn on each other, or are free to choose their own purpose, they might forget their task.”

  “But you said they’re already fulfilling their purpose,” Arda replied.

  “We’ve been lucky,” Anuit insisted. Then: “Regardless, we don’t know what we’ll face when we get to the Stag Throne. We should be in agreement before we get there. We should stand united.”

  “On this, I agree,” Arda replied.

  Tiberan nodded. “Anuit is right. We need to act as one. I favor the idea of balance. I too think the Kairantheum will fulfill its natural purpose.”

  “It’s not natural,” Aradma pointed out. “It’s built by the sidhe.”

  Tiberan raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you once tell the Vemnai Matriarch that as a bird builds a nest, and a ratling builds a city, it’s all natural? That civilization was the natural product of a rational mind?”

  Aradma snorted. “Yes, I did,” she admitted. “And I still believe that.”

  “And Oriand does too,” Anuit said. “She’s committed herself to your memory, Aradma. We thought…”

  Arda looked guiltily at the courtyard ground. “We thought you were dead after so long. We abandoned you.”

  “We all did,” Tiberan said softly.

  “Oriand’s plunged into every book she can get her hands on,” Anuit continued. “She’s gathered followers—no, not gathered. We came to her. She calls us ‘Aradma’s Legacy.’ People who have rejected living by faith in any god.”

  Aradma blushed at hearing the name. “Well,” she said, uncertain what else to add.

  “The Matriarch did this?” Tiberan asked skeptically.

  “She was exiled after we left Vemnai,” Aradma explained. “She is Matriarch no longer. Her name is Oriand.” She turned to Anuit. “Truly? She did all this? You are part of this?”

  “Yes,” Arda replied. “She can be as inspiring as you are.”

  Aradma looked at her friends. They now quietly waited her vote. “Oriand may have outgrown her superstitions,” Aradma said, “and now sees civilization as natural, but she had to abandon the gods to do so. Her goddess would have kept her locked away, trapped in mediocrity. Athra too… it’s civilization that is good, not this being that pretends to embody it. I am uncertain. I will abstain.”

  “Then we choose balance,” Tiberan said.

  Aradma bit her lip, but nodded.

  Tiberan put his hand out, waiting for theirs. “Balance,” he said again.

  Arda followed. “Balance.”

  Aradma placed her hand, but said nothing.

  Anuit sighed. “I hope you’re right,” she said, and then placed her hand atop Aradma’s. “Balance.”

  They released each other’s grip. “Artalon’s far away,” Arda said. “We shouldn’t wait any longer. It will take some time to reach it, and the lands are at war between it and us.”

  “It’s a good thing, then,” Keira chimed in, “that I brought a flight of dragons.”

  Before they left, Aradma pulled Arda aside. “Where is Kaldor buried?” she asked.

  Arda’s eyes softened in compassion. “On the place where you were born,” she said.

  “I need a moment alone,” the druid replied, “before we go.”

  Arda nodded. “I’ll tell the others. Take your time. We’ll wait for you here.”

  “Thank you,” Aradma replied, and then she shifted into the falcon and took to the sky.

  Aradma flew to the place in the foothills where she had made lightfall, emerging from the moonlit pool of water so many years ago. Now, flowers bloomed in perpetual color where the pool had once lain, no matter the season.

  Next to the flowers stood a gravestone in a soft patch of grass. Its epitaph was marked with the old calendar:

  Kaldor

  T.A. 10,025 - 11,073

  Friend and Mentor
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  Whose Wisdom Will Forever Light Ahmbren’s Way

  Aradma knelt beside the stone, and at her touch a single vine of golden roses grew and encircled the stone.

  She did not cry now. She just sat in silence with her thoughts and the memory of him, remembering the warmth of his sunlight.

  She stayed there for several hours before she rejoined her friends in Windbowl.

  The dragonflight descended from the clouds over Artalon in scintillating glory. Thirty-nine gold and orange creatures of primal fury flew over the watery streets, burning troglodytes off bridges and boiling the ones who tried to escape beneath the waves.

  Aradma rode atop a dragon named Palaen. To her side, she saw Tiberan atop Kreen, with Keira holding tightly to his waist. The thought, That should be me, passed randomly through Aradma’s mind. No. Not should. I only wish it could be. There was a difference.

  Palaen dove, and Aradma held on tight as they rushed over the water, towers flashing by at blinding speed. Demons gave chase, flying warriors with great bat-like wings.

  “Baalenites!” Aradma said, plucking the name from her dreamwalker memories. She could catalogue the legions of Dis better than any sorcerer. The Archdragons had fought them long enough.

  Palaen wheeled sharply, and Aradma’s stomach went through her feet with a tickling rush of adrenalin. The dragon laughed and then roared in glee—I remember doing that once, too—and plunged straight towards the baalenites. He opened his jaws, and Aradma watched from over the back of his glittering orange head as white fire streamed over the demons, unmaking the magic that gave them life.

  More demons descended.

  “Look!” Palaen shouted, his voice sounding in sonorous duality from the vocal slits beneath his ears. “The sorceress calls upon the Dark!”

  “The Dark is not evil!” Aradma shouted back. “Only Klrain was!”

  The dragon Graenda, with Anuit on her back, soared high into the sky. She caught the wind currents and hovered as Anuit stood and raised her hands.

  The sorceress transfigured into the beauteous dark creature of onyx skin and purple mist, with raven wings opened wide. She stretched her arms out, and Aradma had the impression that although Anuit could fly on her own, Graenda wanted to stay close to the Seal of Dark.