Empire of Dragons Box Set

by K.N. Lee

  “You’re right. The firedrake might come back. I suppose my special little place has been claimed.”

  “Are firedrakes common around here?”

  “Not really. I’ve seen a few over the years, but they usually stay in the mountains farther from the village.”

  They walked back toward the village, keeping a wary eye to the sky.

  Aros gave her a crocked grin. “You’re tougher than you look, Amalia. Did you know that?”

  Despite the stinging pain from her wound, Amalia smiled with a nod.

  He had no idea.

  12

  Weddings were meant to be the celebration of two lives being bound together for a lifetime. On this day, Kylan was less than optimistic as he watched his best friend swear his life to another. As he watched them laugh, dance, and kiss one another, he tried to forget the fact that he was partly responsible. He’d helped Vidar raise the money to ask for her hand in marriage and build a new cabin for the family they would make together.

  He’d made that decision because he cared for his friend. Vidar had saved his life, and he would do the same for him. He took a swig of ale and set it on the long table before him. He sat alone, while everyone danced, drank, and cheered on the happy couple. It had been six months since the firedrake scarred Kylan for life.

  Father said it showed character. His scar was a badge of honor he should wear proudly. Kylan drank another gulp and sighed. Father was right. As always. Several young women lingered near him, hoping he’d show them some interest or even look their way.

  Any other night, he’d be more than willing to chat with the prettiest girl he could find. Maybe steal a kiss. Tonight, he simply wasn’t in the mood.

  “Someone’s looking extra gloomy tonight,” Astrid said, grinning as she slid onto the wooden bench beside him. She pushed his feet off the seat and moved even closer.

  Groaning, Kylan rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his ale. He held it up for one of the attendants to fill his mug. The scrawny slave girl kept her eyes low and started the pour of cold amber ale.

  “Why have you come to bother me, Astrid?” Kylan asked.

  She smiled at him, her green eyes searching his face. Today was one of the rare days when she actually made an effort with her appearance. Normally, Astrid was little more than one of the men—ready for a fight—with dirt on her face, wild dark blonde hair and blood on her hands from working in her father’s butcher shop.

  Tonight, he noted with amusement how she brushed her hair and even had it braided into small braids with beads and shells.

  When she traced his scar with her cold fingers, he pulled his face back.

  “Your hands are bloody cold? Cold and dead,” he said.

  She chuckled. “You’re funny.” She rubbed her hands together and followed his gaze. “Jealous?”

  “Not likely,” Kylan said. “If Vidar wants to pledge his life to Sassa that is his choice. But, that’s not the life for me. Not yet.”

  “Really, Kylan? Are you saying you don’t want to marry someday?”

  “Do I really have a choice? Pack leader must choose a mate and further the Fenrir line,” he said. “And, guess who gets to be pack leader one day.” Not that he had aspirations to lead, it was his duty to do so when his father died. Luckily, his father showed no signs of leaving their world anytime soon.

  His mug was filled and the slave girl stepped away to line up with the other slaves. He drank several gulps. It warmed his chest as it went down.

  “And, who have you chosen?”

  Her question surprised him. The way her smile faded as she waited for an answer did nothing but make him uncomfortable. Why was she looking at him in that way?

  He shrugged, annoyed that she’d even intruded on his quest for solitude.

  “No one.”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. “Well,” she said. “Your father must be worried. You’ll need to pick someone soon, before the blood moon.”

  “Who says?”

  “Tradition says so. You know that. Don’t tell me you never think about it. I’m sure your father was thrilled to have chosen Princess Patra from the Crosi Clan. Oh, wait. Is that what you’re waiting for? A princess?”

  His mood darkened, and he stood. Without a word, he left the table and made his way away from the wedding celebration.

  “Where are you going?” Astrid called after him.

  He ignored her. He would have tolerated her a while longer if she hadn’t said those words. Bringing up his mother was unacceptable.

  The sounds of the celebration faded into the distance as he stumbled into the woods under the cloak of night. Winter was over, but the nights still had a distinct chill in the air. He didn’t mind. He wore a warm cloak over his pants and tunic. He trudged down to the lake and settled down on the smooth gray stones that lined the calm body of water. The moon shone its light on the serene lake, casting its regal reflection on the still water. It was magical.

  He sighed and looked across the lake to the dark woods on the other side. Was it wrong that he’d rather be out there in the wild, hunting and living a free life?

  Was there something wrong with him that he didn’t find any of the women in town worthy to make his wife? Father already began putting pressure on him to choose someone, but this wasn’t something he took lightly. This was for life. Wolves chose one mate, and stayed with them until death.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. Death was what tore his family apart. Death was what took his mother in the most cowardly of ways. Wolves weren’t supposed to die in their sleep. They were hunters. They were supposed to die in battle, with honor. Not from a plague that killed the infected from the inside out.

  He hated that those last images of his mother insisted on haunting him. The way her beautiful skin had been marred by boils and raised purple welts. The blood and pus that oozed from them toward the end. The way she would cry at night when the house was asleep.

  Kylan never slept during those last days. He’d lay there in bed, starring at the ceiling with tears in his eyes, praying for the cries to stop.

  Wiping his eyes, he looked over the lake. The memories were too fresh. She’d died only two years ago, and he thought of her every single day.

  The silence of the forest soothed him, but his muscles tensed when he felt that he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder with a frown, and both brows rose when a woman emerged from the darkness of the trees.

  She wore white, and had black hair that was cut short like a boys. Though her hair was shorter than any woman he’d ever encountered, her face was that of a goddess. As she approached, he slowly came to his feet.

  Her skin was darker than the pale women of the Fjord realm, and her eyes were brown with hints of gold. She glowed under the moon’s light, and wore a smile on her heart-shaped face.

  “Kylan son of Davyn,” she whispered in a voice that was like a sweet melody. “I’ve been watching you for some time.”

  He swallowed. “Who are you?”

  Though she was beautiful, he feared her taking another step toward him.

  How could a beautiful woman frighten him more than a man with a sword? He realized the answer almost immediately.

  She was a Mage.

  No, more than that. As she stepped closer, light began to shine from inside of her body and out through a series of intricate lines all over her skin.

  She wasn’t just as beautiful as a goddess.

  She was a goddess.

  “That’s right,” she said, with a knowing smile. She nodded to him. “I am Enit, the Goddess of Fate.”

  “What do you want with me?”

  He gasped when she appeared less than an inch from his face. She was much taller than he’d expected, a full foot taller, and though slender, had toned arms that looked to be hard as stone.

  She looked him over, smiling as she touched his hair. “You are the one I’ve been searching for. Clever little one.”

  Their bodies touched and before he could
speak another word, she kissed his forehead, and the world went black.

  13

  Kylan woke to Enit sitting next to him with her legs crossed under her white gown. She watched as he scrambled to sit up. While he righted himself, his head buzzed and his vision was blurry.

  “Take your time. You’ve been given a gift. It will need a moment to adjust to your body.”

  He touched his chest, feeling a faint vibration that shook his entire frame. “What did you do to me?”

  “I gave you the Kiss of Enit Arue,” she said. She leaned forward a little. “I’ve awakened your rune spirit. Have you heard of it?”

  He hated to admit that he was never a fan of scholarly studies. The gods were just faceless characters from childhood stories to him.

  “I can’t say that I have,” he said, twisting his mouth.

  “That’s fine,” she said with an amused smile. “I didn’t pick you for your knowledge of my people or our powers. I picked you because you are strong, loyal, and brave.”

  He lifted himself up to his elbows. “What does any of that have to do with anything?”

  “I have a mission for you,” she said.

  “Tell me what you’ve done to me first.”

  “I’ve enhanced your abilities.”

  Silence filled the air as he searched her face. Was this truly happening, or had he gotten so drunk that he was hallucinating or having a truly strange dream?

  “You’re not dreaming.”

  Brilliant. He gulped. “You’re reading my mind, aren’t you?”

  Her smile widened, but she nodded.

  “That’s just perfect,” he grumbled, running his hands through his hair. He made a mental note not to think anything too embarrassing. “What do you need me to do?”

  She came to her knees and narrowed her eyes at him. “There is a girl. I want you to find her and take her as your mate.”

  His face paled. He blinked. “What?”

  “You heard me correctly. I want you to claim her as your mate. Your eternal companion.”

  “Why?”

  “Why is not important.”

  He raised a brow. “It is to me. You want me to essentially give my life to a woman I’ve never met.”

  “What if I told you she was beautiful?”

  He scoffed. “There are plenty of beautiful girls in town.”

  “And yet, you would never choose any of them to be your mate.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know that you are waiting. Waiting for someone special, someone you won’t find in Wregard.”

  She was right, but he wouldn’t say it. “Damn.” She knew his every thought.

  A soft laugh escaped her perfect lips, but her laugh was cut off when someone called from the trees. Her face went serious, and before his eyes, she shifted into an eagle and flew into the night.

  “Kylan?” Vidar called. He stumbled from the forest and spotted him. With arms outstretched, he quickened his speed. “What are you doing out here? The party is back—” he spun and fell over, then pointed to the sky. “—Back that way.”

  Kylan searched for Enit, but she was nowhere to be found. He came to his feet and went to his fallen friend. “You’re drunk.”

  “I am,” he said with a grin, his speech slurred. “As I should be. Why aren’t you?”

  “I was,” he mumbled. Too bad meeting goddesses is so sobering.

  “Were you talking to someone out here?” Vidar asked, his brows furrowed.

  “No,” he said. “Just asking myself how my best friend got so lucky. Stole the luck right from under me.”

  “Ah, I’m just a simple man who wants a simple life.”

  “More like a boring one,” Kylan said. “But, who am I to judge?”

  “Aye, may be boring to you, but I grew up with nine brothers and sisters. There’s something beautiful about a big family. That’s what I want.”

  “I wouldn’t know much about that. I’m the only child in my family. Makes sense that I prefer battle. With my Wolf brothers by my side, that’s all the family I need.”

  “I know. Such a shame about your mother.”

  Kylan shook his head. “Don’t bring her up.”

  Clearing his throat, Vidar gave a single nod. “I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done. I won’t forget it.”

  Kylan helped Vidar stand and patted him on the back. “I know you won’t. I’m happy for you.”

  “I never thought I’d hear you say it. I always thought you were against love. Just a warrior to the core,” Vidar said with a smirk. He looked to the lake. “You’ll choose a mate one day.”

  Kylan nodded, and ushered Vidar back through the forest and toward his wedding party.

  Or, have one chosen for me.

  As they emerged from the forest, Kylan’s blood ran cold as he spotted something flying right for the town square.

  “Get these people out of here,” he shouted to Vidar as he ran for his sword and shield. “Firedrake!”

  That one word got the attention of everyone within range. Like true born warriors, they stopped what they were doing and instead of panicking, went for their weapons. He was proud to be amongst them. His people were not afraid. They faced danger head on, had since the beginning of time.

  If they’d have been regular men and women, they might have felt fear from those beasts.

  Kylan’s jaw clenched.

  But, they were not regular men and women.

  He snatched his sword from its spot and prepared to slay the beasts, until he looked upward once again.

  There wasn’t just one firedrake.

  His eyes narrowed.

  He counted seven flying their way, and felt his blood run hot with rage.

  Many were going to die that night, and it wasn’t going to be his people.

  Kylan drew his sword. Then, he realized there was no use fighting with sword and shield. Not when firedrakes were around. When he saw that the firedrakes were being ridden by men, he realized that this changed everything. Many of the men and women were intoxicated. Still, they gathered together with their weapons and prepared for a fight.

  “What better way than to honor your wedding day than with a battle?” Kylan said to Vidar as he stood by his side.

  Nodding, Vidar’s expression darkened. He knocked an arrow and lifted a brow. “That one,” he said, pointing the arrow at one of the firedrakes. “It’s the one I shot.”

  Kylan followed his gaze. He was right. The firedrake was being ridden by a cloaked human. Her eye was sealed shut, but it didn’t seem to slow her down.

  “This is surreal,” he said as he watched the human riders hold onto reigns like they were riding horses on a summer day. No one in Wregard had ever seen a firedrake being ridden by a person. Such a thing was only ever heard of in tales and legends, stories from back east where the people had dark skin and commanded magic. Tales from when dragons had been ridden by their masters.

  “They’re Mages,” Vidar said.

  “What?” Kylan looked from his friend to the riders.

  The sky lit up with the flames of the firedrakes and blue fire from the palms of the riders.

  Vidar was right.

  The destroyers of empires. The bringers of death.

  Kylan’s blood turned cold as he realized who those riders were.

  The Brotherhood.

  14

  Heart pounding with adrenaline, Kylan ran toward the firedrakes. Nothing was more sobering than the threat of imminent death. He ground his teeth and refused to see any of his people fall to these cowardly raiders. It was dishonorable to meet in combat where your opponent couldn’t reach you. But, they were in for a surprise.

  While Vidar’s arrows raced through the air and found their target’s glowing core, he lifted his sword, and used all the energy within to leap into the sky.

  Mages might have magic running through their veins. But, the people of Wregard had it within their souls. It coursed like blood and gave them strength an
d agility humans or Mages could never imagine unless faced with one in battle.

  This was that battle.

  His people took to the air with battle cries. Flames met flesh, and steel met bone as the warriors of Wregard fought for their lives and their town.

  Clan leader, Davyn, shouted commands from the tower. His sword glowed in the darkness as he swung and sliced the head of a firedrake off with one move. It was then that the firedrakes and their riders realized that this would not be an easy feat, and that the people had a special trait most humans did not.

  Curious enough, they were resistant to fire.

  Sometimes a curse had its perks.

  While the flames did damage to their homes, the Wregardians were unharmed, and Kylan was about to show them why.

  As he leaped into the sky, his body bent and every bone in his body broke and reshaped itself into a new form within the time it took to go airborne.

  He stretched his black wings, and let out a deafening roar that shook the earth below and struck fear into the riders, and their mindless beasts.

  Kylan wasn’t a man. Though, he knew what it was like to masquerade as one. He also knew what it was like to fly free and blow fire from his lungs.

  Kylan was a dragon, with sharp teeth, gray and black scales that glistened under the moonlit sky, and a tail that whipped out to knock one of the riders from the back of a firedrake and far into the forest.

  He looked to his people and gave a single command.

  “Assemble,” he shouted, and every man and woman shifted into their dragon form.

  It was clear—as the dragons mobilized and took formation before the intruders—that the riders had stumbled upon the wrong village. They’d inadvertently entered the lair of the last living dragons.

  Faster than any full or half-blooded dragon, and bigger, Kylan was destined to lead the clan one day. It was in his blood to do so. The feeling of being a beast was exhilarating. He’d only been able to make the change for a year, and had already mastered the skill. It was his calling to be a great dragon, and to protect everyone in the clan. It was a heavy responsibility, and one that Kylan looked forward to with excitement.