When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  “I was the Stag Throne. Here, in this place, I hoped to join with a mortal in the Great Rite and surrender control of the gods. In my mind, she would be a person of wisdom and insight, who had seen the world but not been taken in by it. She and I together would guide the fate of gods and mortals. There was such a woman, once, long ago… but, the gnomes went one step further and required that all four Archdragons be present and in agreement, by requiring their seals, as to whom this woman would be.

  “Now, three such women ascend the tower, and as an act of faith I’ve stepped aside. Ahmbren should decide its own fate, and mortal life is Ahmbren. If I truly believe that we exist to serve you, then as my leap of faith I must surrender the Stag Throne to you. Here, in this place, with the four Living Seals present, you will be the gateway. Through you, through the Great Rite, one of these women can touch the Kairantheum and decide the fate of the gods.”

  “You didn’t tell me because of Keira,” Tiberan frowned. “The Stag Throne must be joined in life.” Tiberan stared at the god for a moment. “You were right,” he finally said. “I would not have come had I known.”

  Keruhn nodded sadly. “I’m sorry, Tiberan. Whoever becomes one with the Stag Throne will become one with Artalon. I hope for a world of reason and knowledge, and there are three women whom I have watched over the years, who are with you now, who have the kind of wisdom and insight I had hoped for. The Tenth Aeon must be shaped by mortal choice, and my greatest leap of faith is that the right one, with the right kind of insight for this moment in time, will come to you.”

  “Athaym had all of us,” Tiberan said. “You miscalculated. You delivered him the Seal of Time and the Stag Throne in me. He would have compelled the Great Rite from us.”

  “Yes,” Keruhn said grimly. “We were fortunate. There have been risks every step of the way. Were it not for Anuit, and Arda in her life…”

  Tiberan remained silent for a long moment.

  “And now, without me? If I turn away from this for my family’s sake?”

  “Things will continue as they are. There is no balance that Artalon can force. Artalon is about control. You either choose to take control, or allow things to continue to unfold organically.”

  “An interesting choice of wording,” Tiberan noted. “But if we choose control, whose control? Whose purpose? Whose will?”

  “It will be one of the three,” Keruhn replied. “That remains to be seen, which one. Through you, Artalon will grant them the power to shape the faith of millions. Or all three of them might turn away. All three could choose to hope for balance.”

  “Hope for balance,” Tiberan emphasized. “Hope is not a strategy.”

  “You know the nature of the Kairantheum. Mortalkind already controls the gods, even as gods influence mortals. We are interdependent.”

  “Codependent.”

  “Perhaps. Nevertheless, you have the power to choose. You can either turn away and take a chance we will find balance together—and if you choose this, I promise to help as I can. If you leave this chamber, there will be no Stag Throne waiting for Arda, Anuit, or Aradma. They will find an empty room, and when you leave the tower, the room will fade, and the false throne will reappear. Or you can take your place as the throne, and await the woman who will join with you in truth. And you can choose to trust in her choices with Artalon’s power, whoever that might be.”

  Tiberan frowned. Oh, Keira… “Damn you,” he told the god. “Damn all of you and your meddling.”

  Keruhn did not respond to Tiberan’s outburst. He looked as if he expected it.

  He orchestrated this from the start. He knew he would ask me to betray Keira.

  “Are you speaking to the others as well?” Tiberan asked. “Are you bringing them to me?”

  “The Dragon in you brings me to you,” Keruhn said. “The others have different natures. We are in the heart of the Kairantheum. Other gods speak to them, but of one thing we are all certain. They cannot stop any of you from reaching the throne room unless you choose to turn away. It’s in your hands now.”

  Tiberan looked deeply into the god’s eyes. He felt his own Dragon nature respond, and he remembered being Graelyn. He remembered the will of the Green Dragon’s greater mind and the eternity spent in dragonsleep, focused on keeping Klrain’s prison.

  And then… before even that.

  Tiberan saw the expanse of life, over millions of years, before Graelyn sent out the dreamwalker from herself. He saw the creation of the Otherworld, and its eventual blossoming as it reflected the dreams of the evolving mortals in Ahmbren. The Otherworld was like the Kairantheum, in a way, but it was created for beauty by dragons, becoming a world unto itself. The sidhe who created the Kairantheum only sought power—the power to defend themselves, perhaps, but power nonetheless.

  From his Fae memories, Tiberan saw mortals rise in the world, primitive, living to hunt, gather, and bear children. And with each generation, knowledge slowly increased, passed down from one to the other, until they finally learned to farm. They saw that one person could produce food for many, and others were freed to think, to invent, and create. They settled, at first as tribes and then as towns and villages, which grew until city-states arose.

  And then came the gods.

  Graelyn awoke with her siblings from the first dragonsleep, and they too were worshipped as gods. The Archdragons gathered the people unto themselves and ruled the lesser races.

  And Klrain’s hatred of the gods infected mortals, and wars began, both on earth and then in the heavens.

  And the Three knew their mistake. They had meddled. They pulled Klrain and all of dragonkind back into the second dragonsleep, keeping watch over the world by sending out their dreamwalkers.

  But the gods continued to meddle.

  And through the gods, mortalkind bound itself in layers of faith and superstition.

  “Those Who Dwell Beyond are real,” Keruhn said. “Revenant planets. It is a truth the sidhe discovered.”

  “Fear,” Tiberan replied. “You were born out of fear.”

  Keruhn nodded. “What will you choose? The hope for balance? Or control?”

  “What if none of them come? What if all three choose balance?” It’s what we all agreed to.

  “Then you will be trapped here, forever, in Time.”

  I am mortal now. We are powerful among mortals, the four of us. But we are nowhere near what the Archdragons had been. We are mortal. We participate in history and are bound to its fate. We act upon it from the outside no longer. Mortals have kept themselves from evolving by clinging to the gods…

  Oh, Keira. Sadness filled him. Then anger. No more meddling.

  And he remembered the essence of his name: He Who Masters. He remembered the truth of his being. He would not sacrifice mortalkind’s chance to regain control of their fate for Keira’s sake, or his own. But if none came? He’d be imprisoned…

  “My own leap of faith,” Tiberan said, then stepped into the throne room.

  “You know what you must do,” Keruhn said. “If this is your choice, become the throne, and await the lady who surpasses the gods.”

  The chamber was dark and formless. There were no walls, no ceiling. It was a space outside of space, and a time outside of time. The thin blue circle that surrounded the room’s expanse pulsed with light against the deep purple floor.

  The element of Time suffuses this place. It responds to my being.

  He removed his clothing and neatly folded it, setting it down outside the circle. He stepped across its boundary, and he felt the floor hum under the soles of his bare feet.

  He sat in its center, cross-legged.

  Artalon responded. Tiberan’s mind melted, seized in Time by the city’s magic.

  His back arched, and his body filled with Artalon’s energy. He watched, but he could not move. He had made his choice, and there was no turning back.

  His palms clasped his knees, and his fingers curled tightly around them. His sex stiffened and grew, and his
body held itself immovable.

  His mind floated in a field of purple, suffusing his awareness throughout the chamber, then throughout God Spire, then throughout the city.

  His voice—and yet it was also not his voice—reverberated through the zorium superstructure.

  I AM ARTALON.

  But who would come?

  * * *

  Tiberan sat cross-legged in the center of the room, naked. His open eyes stared off into another world, unaware of his surroundings. His antlers rose proudly above his shoulders, and he seemed lost in expectant bliss. His sex between his legs stood firm, waiting for the one who would join with the throne.

  “You want me to fuck him?” Arda asked incredulously.

  “He is the Stag Throne, thanks to Keruhn,” Daag answered, beside her once more. “He is part of Artalon now, is Artalon. Through the Great Rite, you will join with him and become Artalon yourself. The Stag Throne must be given life.”

  “I thought they meant Aradma when Keruhn said that.”

  “You heard what you wanted to hear,” the god replied. “Keruhn did not mean the element of Life. He meant the act that conceives life.”

  “You mean fuck him,” Arda said again.

  “The Great Rite,” Daag replied. “Male and female conjoined together as one in truth.”

  “And then what?” she asked.

  “You will discover the power to shape the Kairantheum.”

  “How?”

  “By shaping the faith of Ahmbren’s millions.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will.” Daag smiled.

  She regarded Tiberan’s naked form. She wasn’t like Anuit—she liked men too. Very much. He was pleasing to the eyes, from his face down to his chiseled hips. His body held itself erect, ready to join the pulse of his heartbeat with hers.

  She clenched her fists, angry at the choice. Save the world, betray Anuit. Walk away, honor Anuit.

  “I can bring balance to the Kairantheum?” she asked.

  Daag shook his head. “Balance is a lie. There is only control. The question is, do you wish for Light to rule, or Dark? Even now, Yamosh tempts your beloved with the same.”

  Arda laughed. “Anuit? She won’t be tempted by a man.”

  Daag shook his head. “Perhaps not, but she will be tempted by control. She has already lain with a man when her purpose required it. To save you.”

  “She… what?”

  “Athaym,” Daag said. “That’s how she stole his power, the same way the incubus lord tried to steal yours.”

  A stab of jealousy pierced Arda’s heart, but then it was washed away and replaced by amusement. She laughed. “Oh, fuck me, he must have been surprised.”

  Daag grinned. “He was.”

  “He couldn’t resist her.”

  “He couldn’t. She is worth possessing.”

  Arda shot him a strange glance.

  He shrugged. “I am the Father God. I like women.”

  She stared at Tiberan again, and his ready body. Would Anuit understand? She’ll be angry, Arda thought. Not at me fucking him, not exactly. She’ll be angry that I had so little faith in her that I had to fuck him.

  “You will inspire millions,” he said. “You can bring them Light. You can bring them hope. A better life. You will guide them to a better world.”

  Hope.

  She turned away from the Stag Throne.

  “No,” she declared. “To take the throne for myself is to abandon hope. I will not take control of Ahmbren’s faith. I give my faith to Ahmbren. I reject your offer.”

  “But do you have faith in Anuit?” Daag asked.

  Arda bit her lip. She hoped Anuit would make the same choice.

  Daag smiled, and the image of Tiberan grew dim, now out of reach.

  * * *

  Anuit entered the throne room and stopped in the center, studying Tiberan’s naked body with detached curiosity. His form held no appeal for her, but she contemplated the possible union.

  Yamosh stood beside her. “He is ready for you,” the dark god said. “If you want to control the gods, all you need to do is take him into yourself and join your mind to the essence of Artalon. Then you will understand what it means to control the gods.”

  She looked up at Yamosh. “Really?” she asked. “Another man? It couldn’t have been Arda?”

  Yamosh shrugged. “You’ve done this before, when necessity dictated. Do you shrink now due to personal aversions? Is power not worth any temporary distaste?”

  Anuit reached out and touched Tiberan’s cheek. She walked around him and traced her fingers over his antlers. The man did not respond… his mind was elsewhere, waiting for her to join with him.

  Power. Power over the gods. Power to defend ourselves, without them ruling us.

  She circled around him again, studying his form.

  A man.

  She had no desire for him. The idea of being with any other man disgusted her, but here, with Tiberan… she just felt detached. She could do it. All she had to do was take him into herself. His sex stood erect, pulsing with his heartbeat. Waiting.

  She thought about Arda. Arda would understand, and Anuit knew she wasn’t deceiving herself when she thought that. Arda would understand… at least, she would understand the idea of placing duty over loyalty.

  What Arda wouldn’t understand, however, was whether power was a good enough reason for this. It wasn’t just her and Arda’s love that this would betray. It was Tiberan’s and Aradma’s as well. Keira or no, it didn’t take a wizard to know that Tiberan and Aradma were meant for each other.

  But she would not let that factor into her decision either. The question here was bigger than any one relationship. So many had died because of the rise and fall of Artalon, and after all these thousands of years, she was the first to stand before its throne with the opportunity to wield its power.

  To control the gods!

  “Take the throne,” Yamosh urged. “You stand here alone. Do you think the others will have the strength to do what must be done? You alone have seen what moves in the Void between the stars. If you turn away from him, he will be trapped here forever.”

  Anuit gasped at that and then stared deeply into Tiberan’s eyes. His gaze remained distant, unchanging.

  I can take control… or leave the Kairantheum to fulfill its purpose. It is working.

  She stiffened as realization struck her. I only want to rule Artalon so I can control the gods for myself. I don’t need to bind the gods to protect us from Those Who Dwell Beyond. They already fulfill this purpose.

  She remembered every sorcerer who had gone before her, falling to their demons. She was the only one who had survived this long to achieve mastery. Wasn’t being Queen of Dis enough? If she joined with the Stag Throne…

  I’m not good enough, she thought. I couldn’t handle that much power.

  “Take control,” Yamosh urged. “Protect Ahmbren. You can achieve the ultimate safety for everyone. You are already Queen of Dis; be Queen of Ahmbren too!”

  “Queen of Ahmbren,” Anuit whispered, tasting those words. They felt… good.

  Suddenly, she desired Tiberan. Not for his body; not for him. For the power offered through him. She reached forward slowly, her sex made wet with want, as her body moved on its own accord while she watched in trembling fascination.

  Her arms reached around his shoulders, and she started to lower herself…

  And then she recoiled. I can’t handle this, she thought once more. If I do this, it’s not about what’s right. It’s not about protecting the world. It’s about power. Then: I’m sorry, Tiberan. I’m so, so sorry. I must leave you here. I will watch over Keira and make sure your sons come to no harm.

  She stood. “No!” she declared, staring defiantly at the Man in Black. “I will not become Klrain.”

  The image of Tiberan grew dim, and Yamosh stared coldly at her as she turned to leave the throne room.

  * * *

  Aradma crossed the ro
om and stopped halfway. Her heart thudded and her breath caught in her throat, and she wanted nothing more than to run away. “Oh, Tiberan!” she exclaimed. Her beloved sat in the middle, waiting for her.

  Keruhn walked beside her.

  “Tiberan is the Stag Throne!” she exclaimed in dismay.

  “Yes,” Keruhn said. “I’m sorry.”

  She turned and balled her fists against the god’s chest. “Damn you!” she shouted. “How dare you!” Her heart throbbed in anguish.

  We were supposed to have waited. He made a promise to Keira, but now he’s here. “He chose to be here,” she realized sadly.

  “Yes,” Keruhn confirmed.

  “It comes to this,” Aradma said. “You didn’t mean the element of Life when you said it needed to be brought to the Stag Throne. You meant the act of life. You want me to conceive another child!”

  “The Great Rite,” the god said. “Male and female, conjoined as one in truth.”

  “And if I turn away from this?”

  “Then you choose to hope for balance,” the god said. “But this is as we are now. Mortalkind already shapes the gods, just as gods guide mortalkind.”

  “It is a balance based on the lies of wishful thinking,” Aradma murmured. Then: “What of the others? Anuit? Arda?”

  “We stand in a space outside of space, and a time outside of time. They too stand before the Stag Throne, contemplating the same choice: acceptance or control.”

  “And Tiberan chose control.” Despite what we agreed. What led him to this?

  “Yes,” Keruhn said. “Had he walked away, the room would be empty. He refused to make that choice for the rest of you and put his hope and trust in whichever of you joins with him. It is I who placed the Stag Throne within his soul. In another age, I would have been the throne.”

  Aradma glared at him. “It would be better were it you now,” she muttered. “Better than him.”

  Keruhn regarded her. “Could you have joined with a god?”

  She paused at that thought.

  Keruhn continued. “But no. You are both mortals of Ahmbren. Had I kept the Stag Throne in myself, I would have betrayed my own integrity, my own faith in all of you.”