Forged by Flames: Book 3 (Dragon's Breath Series)

by Susan Illene

  People screamed and ran, some of them women with babies in their arms. Others were men attempting to fight the fire-breathing beasts with their simple spears, though it was no use. Anyone who fought died quickly. They only bought time for the others to try to get away to safety. I saw one family make it to the edge of the woods on the other side where they lifted some kind of trap door in the ground and jumped inside, disappearing below. Luckily for them, none of the dragons noticed. I could only hope for their sake that the beasts didn’t sniff them out later.

  “Gray dragons?” I overheard Danae ask. Her voice cracked when she spoke, and I glanced over to find tears filling her eyes.

  Phoebe cleared her throat. “They are common in the far northern climates. Up close, you can see they even have a thin layer of fur growing from their scales. It helps them handle the cold better.”

  “Gray or green—they are some sons of bitches either way,” Conrad said, rage filling his face. “I wanna jump in there and slam those motherfuckers with a few RPGs. See how they like that!”

  I knew exactly how he felt, but I also recognized there was a point to us seeing this carnage. “This happened a long time ago. Nothing we can do about it now.”

  Conrad ground his jaw. “Yeah, I know, but a man can dream.”

  Aidan took my hand in his. There was an apology in his eyes as he looked down at me. “I am sorry you must see this.”

  “It’s okay.” I gave him a weak smile. “I’m sure we’ll find out why soon enough.”

  Gazing back up at the ceiling, I found nothing of the village remained except black scorch marks in the dirt. The man who’d been out hunting when the attack began had fallen to his knees, sorrow written all over his face. A minute later, the family who had hidden underground appeared. There was a man, woman, and two girls around seven or eight years old. The father reached out to the grief-stricken hunter, hesitating before placing a hand on his shoulder. He was the older of the two and there was great wisdom in his eyes.

  “Brother,” I thought I heard him say. “I am sorry for your wife and children, I…”

  The hunter lifted his gaze and his eyes began to glow. I gasped, realizing for the first time that he was a sorcerer.

  “They have to pay,” he said, rising to his feet.

  The older brother shook his head. “I told you that is not the way, Finias.”

  “I don’t care anymore!” the hunter shouted, startling the little girls and making them cry.

  “Your magic is too dangerous—the price too high.”

  “I’ve lost everything.” Finias took a step back, distancing himself from his older brother and the girls in both the physical and emotional sense. “It doesn’t matter what I do now.”

  The scene faded away before opening to a new one. Some years must have passed because the hunter/sorcerer looked older and his curly hair had begun to gray. Finias sat at a table, hunched over something he worked on. The angle changed so that we could see his face and the fanatical gleam in his eyes. He lifted the object in his hands, and I caught my first glimpse of the orb fully intact. It was like glass—only a little murky in the middle so you couldn’t see all the way through it. Despite the fact this had occurred long ago, the power and energy radiating from it reached through the scene to touch us. The shifters and I gasped.

  “Oh my God,” Danae said, dropping her jaw. “The magic coming from that thing reeks of death.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “He sacrificed lives to make it.”

  “The fool.” Phoebe’s lips thinned. “He killed members of his own race just so he could get revenge on dragons.”

  Conrad snorted. “Bad guy logic has never added up for me.”

  “He does not care because his family is gone,” Aidan said, drawing our attention to him. “Men such as him cannot handle a loss of that magnitude without their sanity going as well.”

  “That doesn’t make it right, and he has to know that,” I pointed out.

  His hand squeezed mine where he still held it. “It is easy to judge someone when you have not faced their circumstances.”

  That was one more reason to love Aidan. He had a way of seeing through to the heart of the matter that most others could not. “Just do me a favor and don’t ever go on a rampage if something bad happens.” I lifted my chin. “I don’t want to be the one who has to stop you.”

  He put a hand to my cheek, caressing it. “Then I suggest you don’t ever die. I guarantee nothing if that ever happens.”

  “That’s so sweet,” Danae said, sighing. “I wish a man loved me like that.”

  Before anyone could comment further, the scene above us changed again. This time the sorcerer strode across a field with the orb raised high in his hand, fitting perfectly in his palm. Behind Finias, a hundred red dragons flew in perfect formation in the sky.

  Aidan snarled. “He used shifters.”

  “That fushka,” Phoebe cursed in her native tongue.

  From beyond the next rise, nearly twice as many gray dragons appeared. They did not fly in perfect formation, but rather like a group who’d been called to battle at the last moment. The sorcerer called out, “Dijis!”

  The red shifters zoomed toward the gray dragons with murderous intent. They collided together, blocking out the blue sky in a tangle of wings and talons. Roars and growls filled the air, as well as the harsh sounds of pain. Dragons had a way of yelping in a similar manner to dogs—if a little less high-pitched—when they were hurt. Over and over, we watched both red and gray beasts fall to the ground in crumpled heaps. The shifters were heavily outnumbered, but they fought as savagely as the pure dragons. Before long, though, no red remained. I thought I caught a sniffle come from Phoebe, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the scene to check. It was enough that Aidan’s hand gripped mine so tightly I thought he might break bones.

  The sorcerer, surrounded by the mangled corpses of dragons, sent more power into the orb. It glowed bright. “Dijis!”

  My jaw dropped when half of the remaining gray dragons moved to attack their brethren. They hesitated midway, the looks in their eyes revealing their helplessness as they were forced to battle their own kind. Finias’ face was a mask of concentration. It was one thing to order one clan to fight another, but making them attack the ones they cared about took a lot more power. His hand was shaking by the time the battle finished, and only one horribly injured dragon remained. The sorcerer made his way over to it, sidestepping the corpses in his path.

  “Galus,” Finias said in a commanding tone.

  The dragon struggled for a moment, but then it shut its eyes and expelled a final breath. He must have commanded it to die. I might be a slayer, but at least I gave my opponents a chance to fight back. This man took all their free will away and made them do terrible things.

  A new scene appeared, and I discovered I’d only begun to see the lengths the sorcerer would go to in his crusade for revenge. Before our eyes, we watched as Finias led three humans through the snow. They were in a mountainous region where they had to take care with each step. They paused before a dark cave entrance, then the sorcerer gestured for his followers to go inside. Finias still had the orb in his hand, and the people with him walked almost like robots. No emotion reflected in their eyes.

  The tunnel opened up into a huge cavern that must have been a couple of hundred feet high. There were nooks and crannies everywhere that dragons could use to build nests and most of them were filled with sleeping beasts. The three humans—two males and one female—gazed around. Finally, a hint of fear flickered in their gazes and their bodies shook. At least thirty dragons used the cave as a den. Even if these people were slayers, they couldn’t hope to kill them all once the beasts woke up. This was a suicide mission.

  “No.” I covered my mouth with my free hand.

  The sorcerer held the orb out and narrowed his gaze on his targets, whispering, “Dijis!”

  The woman and two men struggled against the command, shutt
ing their eyes and clenching their fists. The slayers would have felt an instinctive killing rage the moment they spotted all the dragons, a command to kill them only adding to that, but they still had some sense of self-preservation. Our kind would risk our lives even when there was just a small margin of success, but if it appeared death was an absolute and certain thing, we could fight our instincts. Otherwise, every slayer would die the moment they ran into a large nest. Something had been written into our genetic code to at least give us that much control.

  “Dijis,” Finias said a shade louder this time.

  The slayers’ eyes snapped open. They pulled their blades from their scabbards and each ran in a different direction. Their movements were silent and deadly at first, stabbing dragons in their kill spots so they never even had a chance to cry out a warning. Perhaps five died that way before the others awoke. Then the real battle began and the slayers were attacked on all sides. They hacked and slashed with a precision I hadn’t quite mastered yet. These were experienced fighters who’d been hunting dragons for years so that they’d become the perfect warriors. I was both amazed at their abilities and terrified for them.

  Then one of the male slayers failed to dodge a tail strike and went flying through the air, slamming into a cave wall. A dragon blew a billow of flames, blinding him, while another went in to chomp at his legs. A scream filled the air. When the flames subsided, the man lay with only stubs at his knees, bleeding profusely. A beast lunged forward and swiped at the slayer with its sharp talons. The man thrust his blade into its neck, twisting until the dragon choked on the metal. Then he withdrew the sword and plunged it into the creature’s heart. It fell heavily to the ground, mixing its blood with the slayer’s on the wet stone.

  The man didn’t get his sword free in time, opening him to another dragon. The beast finished him off by chomping his head and ripping it from his shoulders. I flinched and had to look away for a moment. Even after all the battles I’d fought, this was the most gruesome one I’d ever seen. Aidan pulled me close to him. Though I didn’t want to appear weak, I couldn’t resist the warmth and security he offered. Something told me he needed the reassurance just as much. We were watching slayers die after all, and he’d fallen in love with one.

  When I forced my gaze back up to the scene, I found the remaining man and woman standing back to back. Both were bloody with their clothes ripped and gashes covering their exposed skin. Part of the woman’s long, blond hair had been shorn off, revealing her high cheek bones and striking blue eyes. She was a beautiful warrior, and she had her back to a large, muscular man who could have given Brad Pitt a run for his money. They fought, calling commands to each other and facing off against the remaining twenty dragons. The battle seemed to last forever. One-by-one the beasts went down, barely able to get at the slayers now that they worked in concert. The sorcerer stood on the sidelines. He watched the man and woman fight with a satisfied expression on his face.

  I wished I could jump in there and stab him to death.

  Eventually, two of the beasts purposely thrust themselves on the slayers’ blades. I thought Finias might have commanded them to do it, but then the other dragons climbed over their fallen brethren—the swords still stuck in them—and clawed at the man and woman.

  The talons ripped into their heads and faces, pulling them apart. After that, it only took seconds for the beasts to finish them off. The man died quickly, but a sign of life remained in the woman as she lay bleeding out on the cold stone. She inched her hand toward the fallen man, not quite able to reach him, and whispered something I couldn’t catch. Her breath shuddered once and her body went still.

  Eight dragons remained. The sorcerer turned them on each other, and as the battle played out to its sad conclusion, the scene faded away. This time, the murky pattern in the ceiling didn’t change to another scene. Instead, the natural cave roof returned with all the stalactites hanging down. A soft glow filled the walls, enabling us to see everything around us in detail.

  “I’d kill for one of those cat videos on YouTube right about now,” Conrad said, grimacing. “That shit was depressing.”

  He had no argument from me there.

  A breeze brushed by us, and we turned to find the silent guide standing at the end of the tunnel again. The Native American woman stared at us with ancient eyes. Then she clapped her hands, and everything went dark.

  Chapter 22

  Phoebe

  Phoebe found herself in a different part of the cave she didn’t recognize. She spun around, searching for the others. It was quiet—too quiet. She inhaled deeply, but the only odors she took in were the subtle hints of limestone and a slight mustiness in the air. Phoebe suspected no one had been in the caverns for months before they arrived.

  The tunnel was narrow enough that if she spread her arms wide, she could touch the walls on either side of her. A soft glow emanated from the limestone, enabling her to see her surroundings well enough. There was a small pool of water beside her feet, and a reddish-orange salamander sitting next to it. Was it looking at her? She narrowed her eyes on the creature but couldn’t be certain.

  This had to be another test. They might not have gotten the chattiest guide at their last stop, but this newest one made Savion appear sociable. After what they’d been forced to confess, she worried what they might have to do at this one. She’d already told her brother her deepest secret, and though Aidan took it well, it left her feeling vulnerable. Phoebe enjoyed having a few things she kept to herself, and with her lover being a spy, she didn’t want to bring unnecessary attention to Ozara. They’d each agreed to keep their meetings private. On the other hand, it did give her some measure of relief to no longer hide such a big part of herself from her brother.

  “Is anyone there?” Aidan asked, his voice drifting over to her.

  Phoebe spun around, spotting his head poking out from around a curve in the tunnel. Where had he come from? She hurried in his direction, ducking under a large piece of flat stone that protruded from the wall at shoulder height. In the section where her brother stood, the tunnel opened wider and gave her a measure of breathing space. Though dragons enjoyed dark caves as nesting places, Phoebe wasn’t certain she would want to live in one if the fortress was ever not an option.

  She reached her brother, grateful to see a familiar face. “Did you just arrive?”

  “Yes, a moment before I called out to you. When you disappeared, we did not know what to think.” He leaned against a stone wall, defying Conrad’s earlier warnings. “Maybe the others will join us soon.”

  “Maybe.” Phoebe checked one end of the tunnel, finding only darkness where she’d stood a minute ago. She turned to check the other way and caught a glimpse of light coming from that direction. “Do you see that?”

  Aidan moved next to her and squinted. “I think someone is down there.”

  She took off first, leaving him to follow behind. The tunnel narrowed again so that they could barely fit through the passage without brushing against stone. As they got closer, a distinct figure began to take shape in the light. Phoebe skidded to a halt, almost tripping as her boots caught in the gravel.

  “Father?” she cried out.

  Aidan grabbed her arm. “It can’t be.”

  In the circle of light, only Throm’s head and chest showed. Then the rest of his body formed, and he almost appeared whole, but there was a luminescent quality about him. Phoebe resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. If she found nothing except air, it would only make the pain of seeing him again that much worse. It was difficult enough having him standing right there and not know whether he was real or not. What sort of test forced them to face a lost loved one?

  “Children.” Throm nodded. “I have missed you.”

  Phoebe and Aidan exchanged glances. Their father almost never expressed his feelings.

  The figure chuckled. “You do not believe it is me, but I assure you it is. Zoyra has allowed me to come here so that I might help you in your quest.”<
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  “You were angry with me the last time I saw you,” Aidan said, a hint of pain in his voice. He’d suffered the worst of all because of his estrangement with their father. “I find it hard to believe you are happy to see me now.”

  Throm gave Aidan a pitying look. “I see much clearer now, son. Death has a way of removing everything except the simple truth, and I’ve discovered a lot about you.”

  Aidan stiffened. “Such as?”

  “Your actions of late greatly disturb me.” Their father shook his head. “It is my own fault for not watching you more closely and guiding you as I should have. The fact you have fallen in love with a slayer only proves my failure.”

  Aidan sucked in a breath, and his gaze filled with hurt. Phoebe might not agree with her brother’s choice of a female, but she could see how happy he was with Bailey. Aidan had never shown such passion for life. Before he met the slayer, he seemed to do everything without any true drive or purpose. Now, he behaved like a man who cared and wanted to make a difference in the world. Phoebe might be having a difficult time accepting the slayer as something more than a passing interest for her brother, but if Bailey could make Aidan a better man, then perhaps she was meant for him. Who cared what their father thought?

  “What do you want from us?” she asked.

  “And the daughter who failed me when I only wanted one thing from her—to succeed me as pendragon.” Throm’s expression twisted. “But you could not even win a simple battle against another female, could you?”

  “We do not have to listen to this,” Aidan said, moving in front of Phoebe. “If you’ve only come back to judge us, we’ve heard enough.”

  Throm’s eyes sparked. “I have but one simple task, and the orb—fully intact—can be yours. Your journey will be over and you can return home.”