by K.N. Lee
24
Amalia watched in awe and dark elves poured in behind the men. They came in, hissing and crying out in foreign tongues, their armor shining in the torch and candlelight of the ceremony hall.
The vapors spread around them, making an eerie scene for the carnage that ensued.
The dark elves were merciless, using their enchanted, glowing swords to cut through monks. The blades were encased in light that ranged in color from yellow, to red, to blue, and each elf wielded them with expert skill.
It was odd to see such a fighting style. She’d learned from the Wolves.
Aggression. Strength. Sheer determination.
But with the dark elves, it was as though the monks were practically defenseless against the dark skinned creatures. Their movements were fluid and effortless, agile like black panthers taking down their pray in the jungle. Not one fell as they made their way through the Mages.
One elf—as big as a bear, sliced through four men by swinging a sharp, enchanted pole around in a circle. They were all cut in two, and left in pieces once he stepped over their twitching limbs. With one glowing eyes, and the other covered with a patch, he sought out his next unfortunate prey.
Father Marduk stood before her, his eyes widened with surprise. He ran his hands through his hair, mouth ajar, cheeks pale.
She prayed that one of the dragons would spray flames onto his head, melting him to a pool of blood and guts while she watched.
Instead, he used his dagger to cut through the ropes that bound her to the stake and lifted her, tossing her over her shoulder.
“There,” one of the men shouted, directing his men to Father Marduk. “Kill the bastard.”
The following roars awakened her joy.
She gasped, her spirits rekindled. She knew that accent.
Wregardians.
Her heart soared with hope, but those hopes were dashed as Father Marduk ran with her back into the inner hallways of the temple and away from the battle.
It didn’t matter. The battle followed him, and she cheered those men on, praying they caught up and cut him down.
She kicked and fought, and bit at his neck to get him to drop her. All attempts were fruitless. He held tight and ignored her fighting, racing through the corridors to the staircase that led down into the lower halls of the temple.
She knew where they were going.
The Oasis.
25
Kylan stood at the bars of his stall, waiting. The sounds of chaos wafted through the night air and to the outposts. The sweet sound of battle made him close his eyes and tilt his head to hear it better.
The Wregardians were here, finally. And with them, their dark elf allies.
Kylan had been waiting patiently for days, hoping Amalia could keep her wits about herself and trust in his plan.
Vidar’s voice echoed in his head through their mental link. He could feel Vidar’s presence, smell him and the others. All would be well once they arrived—once they freed him from this prison.
He has her—the Empress, Vidar said.
Kylan let out a sigh of anguish. Who?
The Father monk.
He slammed his fist into the bars.
Send the others to follow him so he doesn’t get away. But, come to me, now, Kylan said. Free me so I can kill him myself.
On it, Chief.
It was odd to hear his best, childhood friend call him chief, but that’s the way it was now that Kylan was the leader of the clan.
He waited, his blood boiling, his face hot with rage. If he hurt one hair on Amalia’s head, the entire desert would be leveled by his fury.
Before long, Vidar flew through the night and landed in the center of the outpost courtyard. The corners of Kylan’s mouth lifted into an amused grin once he saw Sassa riding Vidar’s back. She leaped off and ran to his stall, a glowing stone in her hand.
While Vidar shifted back into a man, Sassa reached him the Valrussa Stone through the bars. She touched his face, as gentle as his mother used to.
“Soul of my soul, bones of my bones,” she recited. “I had to carry the stone so that Vidar could fly. It was my honor.”
He nodded to her, pressing his forehead to hers between the bars, and then used the power of the stone to release himself from the wicked collar around his neck.
The metal ring was music in the night, and Kylan threw it far away before shifting into a dragon and crushing the walls and stalls of the stables.
Toss the stone into my mouth, he said to Sassa.
“Yes, Chief,” she shouted in reply.
She did so, and the stone flew into his mouth and onto his tongue. The sensation of it melted against his tongue and fusing with his blood was pure euphoria. The Valrussa Stone had been kept safe for centuries in hopes that a true pairing of Erani would return to claim it.
It was that time.
As its power spread throughout his body, he mentally freed every firedrake in the outpost, releasing them from their collars, urging them to fly with him. The magic coursed through his veins, giving him strength and vitality. What he had felt with the spirit rune Enit had given to him was nothing in comparison.
He stretched his wings, ready to fly.
To his surprise, the firedrakes left their stalls…as men and women, some with long beards of gold and all with hair that matched.
He blew smoke through his nostrils, astonished. How long had this clan of dragons been oppressed and enslaved by the monks? He didn’t want to imagine what suffering they’d endured.
They were of all ages, some as young as adolescent children, all dressed in furs and clothing much like the Wregardians. But, he couldn’t tell where they were from.
As they approached him, he watched in stunned silence.
The shifters touched their hands to his body, reciting the words:
Soul of my soul. Bones of my bones.
26
“ Put me down, you bastard!” Amalia ordered as Father Marduk ran down the stairs toward the Oasis. “Can’t you see that you’ve lost?”
He huffed. “Of course, you’d think that. You’re just a silly girl. But, no dear, the battle is just beginning. Let me show you.”
Somehow those words worried her, and she prayed that whatever he had in mind would fail.
They reached the bottom level and Father Marduk raced inside the temple with her struggling to free herself. She wouldn’t stop until he put her down.
Finally, he tossed her onto the slippery floor with a thud, and began ripping off his cloak and clothes.
She coiled away in horror, staring at the scars that covered his body. It looked as though different body parts had been stitched onto his torso—his arm a different color from his chest—his legs two different sizes. He was a wooden toy put together with spare parts.
But, she knew better. Despite his appearance, he was once a god, and that meant that whatever power he had leftover from his first life was still enough to wipe out everyone up in the other levels.
She jumped. The sound of warriors running down the stairs in their heavy boots reached her ears.
While they ran toward the temple, Father Marduk made a glowing orb appear from the air before him.
“I have a spirit rune for each skill,” he told her, summoning them one by one. They awakened and rose into the air around him like buzzing bees. “I also have your dear Kylan’s.”
The last rune was a golden color and rose to hover right above his head like a small sun.
He then held his hand out before them and closed his eyes.
Amalia watched in bafflement as armor began to cover his body. Steel wrapped itself around every inch of his flesh until nothing was seen but a metallic man.
“You see,” he said. “These people mean nothing to me. You are all tiny children just desperate for someone to call…Father.”
With a whoosh of color and sound, a long, two-handed sword shot out from his palm. He gave it a swing through the air and the black blade began to smoke
and burn with white-hot flames.
He looked right at her, his eyes glowing red through his armor. “Isn’t that right, Amalia? Don’t you wish your father was here to save you from the big bad monster?”
“I despise you,” she said, shaking her head with disgust.
He chuckled. “But, we’re just getting started,” he said, and before her eyes, two figures rose from the ground beside him.
A screech escaped her lips, and she shot to her feet when the figures materialized and turned to her.
“Mama! Papa!”
She ran to them, her heart bursting with joy.
Her parents stood there in the same clothes she remembered them wearing, with pale faces and sunken eyes, and stringy wet hair.
It was then that she skidded to a stop and her hand clamped over her mouth.
There was no soul in those dark eyes.
Her heart broke into whatever pieces were left.
They were dead. Their hair was sticky and matted with blood.
She gasped back sobs at seeing the backs of their heads where something forceful had smashed their skulls.
“Monster,” she cried in a wounded wail. “How could you? Have you no heart?”
“Not anymore. You see, I’ve been saving that little gift for you,” Father Marduk said, and as the Wregardians poured into the temple, he readied his sword and gave her a wink. “You can join them soon. Just let me take care of this minor nuisance.”
She seethed, turning her glare onto him as his back faced her.
With his sword, he entered the battle, crushing and slicing through armor and steel with his massive sword of flame.
The Wregardians fought hard, and valiantly, but before long their bodies started to litter the beautiful reflective floor.
Something broke inside Amalia—it snapped. As she looked at the undead bodies of her mother and father, she realized that something crashed to the floor with a clink of steel.
Both she and Father Marduk glanced down.
Eyes widening, Amalia touched her throat. It was sore, but free of the golden collar. She kicked it up to her hand and held it into the air. Her wicked glare met Father Marduk’s.
There was an itching in her throat, and heart. The inside of her chest ached and vibrated like a low hum. She tilted her head, listening to it, embracing it.
All of her life she’d been told that magic was dirty.
Evil.
Don’t let anyone know what you can do.
But, she never had the chance to learn…what could she do, exactly?
The vibration in her chest spread to her arms, warming them from the inside, making her blood rush. Father Marduk paused his battle with the Wregardians, watching her with raised brows.
When she looked down, the gown she’d been wearing was gone. She sucked in a breath, seeing bronze armor covering her. She touched the markings on her intricate bronze and gold breastplate, and gave Father Marduk a surprised look.
The corners of her mouth lifted in a mischievous grin as she copied his display, and reached out a gloved hand. A might axe shot from her palm and she gripped it by the hilt, feeling the weight, wrapping her fingers around its smooth grooves. She closed her eyes, truly feeling it.
Once the axe truly felt like hers, she opened her eyes and let out a loud laugh as it glowed white, with sparkling silver threads racing up and down the blade.
The Wregardians stopped fighting at once, and turned their attention to her.
With a maniacal laugh mixed with surprise, amusement, and grief, she pointed her axe to Father Marduk while narrowing her eyes at him.
“These are my people, Einar,” she announced. “If you want to harm them, you’ll have to go through me.”
He chuckled, nervously, but tried to feign confidence as he fully gave her his attention. He lifted his sword over his shoulder.
“Very well, child,” he said. “Let us begin.”
She leaped into the air. “Let’s!”
The clash of steel made the entire temple shake as sparks and flame sprayed and shot out all around them. Gritting her teeth, Amalia slid her axe down the length of Marduk’s sword. With the skill of a true Wolf, she snatched the sword right out his hand with her blade and tossed it over her head.
“Not much of a warrior, are you, Einar?” Amalia asked, diving down to the ground where she spun on the slippery floor in a circle, knocking him off of his feet with the force of her ax.
He scrambled to his feet, his heavy armor weighing him down.
She took the moment to rush him, her ax scooping him up by the neck and with all of her strength and might, she swung him around, sending him crashing into the statues of the gods.
“While you were busy killing my people, I was training, fighting, preparing for this,” she said. “I may not have known it then, but I see it now.”
He stood, ripping his helmet off his head and spitting blood. “You see nothing, child. I have already loosed the beasts and they are coming. Just you wait.”
They ran at each other, all teeth and fury, her ax begging for more blood.
His spirit runes danced around his head, shining bright lights on him, and to her dismay, she realized that they were working hard to heal him right before her eyes.
Amalia raised her left palm and called the runes to her.
It was a risk, but, to her surprise, one of them came. Kylan’s.
She glanced up at her new spirit rune, wondering what to do with it and how to control it. She cried out as a blow to her gut sent her doubling over and falling to her behind. She kept her grip on her ax, and leaped to her feet.
Father Marduk growled and shot a ball of blue fire into her chest. She gasped, tensing, the flames splashing into her with a loud crackling sound. She closed her eyes, fearing the worst, and when she opened them, she glanced down to see the blue flames had clung to her armor, absorbed into it—strengthening it.
“Not possible,” he said, swallowing.
She lifted her gaze to him. “I’ve come to learn that anything is possible,” she said, and charged, ax ready, heart thumping, all of the adrenaline in her body throbbing within her muscles.
She knocked him down with such force, that the entire temple rocked, and the ceiling cracked open, sending large rocks crashing down around them.
One fell into his belly, crushing him. She dove out of the way of the others, her breaths quickening. The entire Oasis and temple was going to fall. From her spot on the ground, she watched the Wregardians and elves race for the stairs.
She hurried to her feet, glancing back at Father Marduk. While the world crashed around her, she approached, watching him with curious eyes.
“I told you to let me go,” she said. “I didn’t want to have to kill you. But, I will do what I must to protect my people. You killed my parents. You stole my childhood. I have no choice but to punish you for your crimes.”
“It’s fine,” he said, coughing up blood. His red-stained smile gleamed up at her. “I will be back. Me, Zuka, and my creations. We will—”
She cut him off, slamming the sword into his neck, muting every taunt he’d hoped would frighten her.
As she looked down at him, the light leaving his eyes, she whispered.
“And, I’ll be here. Waiting.”
27
Kylan flew to the temple, Vidar and Sassa at his side, the other dragons behind him. They would fly with him, fight with him, and become Wregardians.
When he reached the temple, he slowed in the sky as the other Wregardians and dark elves stood outside in the rising sun, bowing their heads as if in prayer.
Flying down to the ground, the closer he got to the strange sight, the more he began to understand what was happening.
He landed, standing there for a moment as Amalia sauntered over to him, dressed in set of immaculate bronze armor. On her head was a red cloak and a sparkling diamond crown.
She tipped it off of her head, revealing her wild black hair with the white lock, a smile o
n her face.
When she reached him, she lowered her magnificent ax and placed a hand on his heart.
“Soul of my soul,” she said. “Bones of my bones.”
He stuttered, confused. He had come to save her.
Where is Father Marduk and the others? Kylan asked through their mental link
Amalia looked up to him, her silver-gray eyes unblinking.
“I’m afraid you missed it dear,” she said. Then, she raised her ax and he noticed the blood this time. “He sends his regards.”
A chuckle erupted in his chest, and he stepped back and shifted into a man so that he could scoop her into his arms. He lifted her from the ground and spun her around. It was bliss to hold her in real life—in the present—surrounded by their people.
Victorious.
He paused and smiled at her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and when she leaned in and kissed him on the lips with her soft, succulent mouth, he saw their future.
And, it was bright.
Copyright © 2018 by K.N. Lee
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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The clouds parted for Kylan and the dragons, welcoming them back to the land they’d claimed after the great exodus.
Below stood Kylan’s home, the village of dragons kept hidden from outsiders for centuries.
Wregard.
With the ice-capped mountains in the distance, and miles of tightly-knit evergreen trees rustling beneath the bright sun, Kylan flew Amalia across the sky to a clearing right before the wooden gates of his home. With her on his back, they were more connected than he’d ever been with another person.
Escaping the Brotherhood was just the beginning of their adventure, and Kylan was certain that his people would be ready to join him.
