Table of Contents
Title Page
On the Wings of Dragons…
Map
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Copyright
Dedication and acknowledgements:
Glossary
On the Wings of Dragons
Path of the Wielders 3
Cleave Bourbon
On the Wings of Dragons…
The time has come to seek out the eldest and most wise of all the races, beings created by the gods to defend mankind in ancient times. No more floundering around in the dark where the enemy lives. No more falling into the machinations of those bent on seizing and exploiting ancient power. The time has come to seek out… the dragons!
Kaxen and Asterial have struggled to understand the plans of the enemy. New allies have tried to help but the enemy’s plans remain elusive, unobstructed, and most of all misunderstood. Now a new menace from within threatens the health of Kaxen. A mysterious illness that only the dragons may be able to cure drives Kaxen to the seek them out in their mountain home. But the dragons have long ago separated themselves from the affairs of men and elf alike. They have isolated themselves on purpose. What hope does a simple man like Kaxen have to change the minds of the oldest living race and convince them to help him on the path of the wielders?
Copyright © Cleave Bourbon 2017
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Map
Prologue
Kimala awoke chained to a torture table set up at an angle. Malanor smiled at her as her eyes focused on him. Realizing where she was, she tugged hard at the chains binding her but they would not budge.
“Let me go, Malanor!”
Malanor folded his arms behind him. and walked around the chamber examining the various instruments of torture. Kimala knew the tactic. He was trying to get into her head as if he were trying to decide the best manner of torture to use on her.
“You have been spying on me this whole time? Who do you work for, Morgoran, Asterial?” Malanor asked.
Kimala decided to say nothing.
He looked at her. “Silence? Silence will get us nowhere, my dear.”
“What would you have me say?”
“Ah, there’s your sweet voice. What would I have you say? How about you tell me what you have been up to this entire time. What have you found out about me, what have you reported, and to whom have you reported?” he cleared his throat as if his next words were difficult. “Did you ever really care about me?”
Kimala felt her anger swell. She knew it was over now, why not tell him the truth about how she felt. “You sicken me, Malanor. You pretend to be mad, but you and I know it’s all a ruse. You were never insane, it was all just an elaborate illusion.”
Malanor smiled mischievously, “Well, not all of it. I do have a tendency to be flamboyant.”
Kimala shook her head, “You’re not fooling anyone but yourself.”
“So, I take it that you never really cared for me.”
“You take it right, you great fool. No one could care for you, you maniac! You try to be evil just for the sake of being evil and you fail at it miserably. No one is threatened by you! No one is afraid of you!”
Malanor’s face turned grim. “They will.” He whispered.
“What, what did you say?”
He turned to her with resolve, “I said they will! They will be so afraid of me that they will make mistakes and they will be afraid of me right up until the day I crush them all.”
Kimala met his gaze and then burst out into laughter. Malanor’s face turned red and his cheeks puffed up in anger. “See, you sound ridiculous.”
He stormed over to one of the tables and retrieved something. He came back to her with it clutched within his fist. “Do you know what this is?” He opened his hand to reveal a jade statuette.
“It’s a statuette of an elf.”
“It’s much more than that. It’s a…” He backed away from her.
“It’s a what?”
He grinned and began to point an index finger at her, “Ah, you’re good, my dear. I almost told you everything.”
Kimala took his words as a good sign. If he was worried about what she knew, it meant he was planning to let her go at some point.
He put the statuette back on the table and picked something else up. “It is true. You are important to someone, I know it’s true. Someone will come for you. Even in the face of the dangers here at Lux Enor, someone will try.” He walked to her with the thing in his hand. “I have been working on this for over a thousand seasons, since just after the fall of the Oracle.”
“Malanor, what are you planning?” She was becoming worried now.
Malanor’s expression was that of surprise. “What’s the matter, my dear? It almost seems like you are suddenly…afraid of me.”
She was, but she strengthened her resolve. “I will never be afraid of you!”
“Aye, you will.” He placed the thing on her forehead. It felt like a flat rock. At once his face contorted into a hideous skull, cackling at her. “You WILL!”
“What are you doing to me?”
He removed the item from her forehead and his face returned to normal. “I am showing you. This talisman allows you to see things the way they really are. I am teaching you. You will be my greatest creation. They will come to rescue you, but what they will rescue will be mine, my woman, my creation.”
“You are mad!” She whispered. “I will never be your woman!”
He put the item back on her forehead and his face changed back to the rotting skull. “Do you see me for what I really am, Kimala? Do you see me?”
She tried not to, but the screams came almost involuntarily.
“You will be afraid of me!” He cackled. “They will be afraid of me!” He moved his skull face closer to her and spoke in a low, menacing tone. “Most importantly, my dear, They will be afraid of you!”
Kimala’s screams echoed through the hallways of the keep at Lux Enor.
Chapter 1
Lady Shey finally managed to unhinge her shackles. Four long days and nights had passed while she picked the lock with a sewing needle she kept fastened inside the hem of her dress. Except for a meal at midday and one at evening, she saw no one. Her attempts to discover who was bringing her food had always failed. A faint light came from a window high on the inner wall, but she had never been able to look out it since her feet were chained to the floor. Her fingertips were bloodied and dirty from her toil, and she could not draw essence enough to break the seal, so she had surmised that she must be in the Sacred Land.
She had eaten the wretched food brought to her as best she could to keep her strength up
, but she knew if she did not break free soon she would grow weak and sick from the rot of it. She flicked the sewing needle, and the shackles finally gave way. She climbed to her feet and stretched the cramps from her legs. Trying to pull herself up to the window, she realized she had not remained strong enough to pull herself up to the bars. She tore off the bottom of her dress and tied a knot in it. Wrapping the dress around an iron bar on the window for leverage, she pushed with her legs until she could see out the window.
In the darkness, she could make out trees and grass. Curious, she summoned essence and felt it flow into her body. The chains had dulled her abilities. Letting go of the dress and falling back to the floor, she concentrated on the bars and released essence. The bars disintegrated. She strained for the edge of the window and her fingers found purchase. She pulled herself over the windows edge and sighed; below was a high drop and a moat. Desperate to escape, she took a deep breath and dove into the murky waters below. She fought for every stroke until she pulled herself out of the moat and onto soft, long grass. Lady Shey forced herself to her feet and surveyed her surroundings. Nothing was recognizable, but it did not matter, she was free.
Hours passed as she made her way through the dense forest. Lady Shey was confident that no one knew of her escape. In the back of her mind, she worried about the midday meal. Would they discover her gone if her plate was still full? She pressed on, trying not to think about it. Distance was the key. She had to get as far away as she could before anyone discovered she was gone.
At first light, Shey saw a cabin nestled in some brush. As she approached, she realized the front of the structure was made of wood and was protruding from the cliffside. She tapped on the door, but no one answered. She tapped again, and this time the door came open. Inside the doorway stood a dwarven woman dressed in a green apron and blue dress.
“Oh my, you look terrible. Come in and sit by the fire,” said the woman.
“Thank you. Where am I?” Lady Shey asked.
“You are on the outskirts of Tyr Raganough in the Jagged Mountains, dear.” The little woman helped Lady Shey sit in a small cushioned chair. “You are no dwarf. What are you doing so far away from your people?”
“I don’t know. I was captured by something or someone and held prisoner.”
“We are not far from the city of Gothenwyre on the Scarovian border. The Scarovians must hate you if they took you there,” she smiled, “which means you are a friend to this house.”
“How would you know that I came from Gothenwyre?”
“Because it’s the only place near enough to here. No dwarf would imprison you. Now, sit back and rest by the fire.”
“Thank you…um…?”
“Shila Hornbuckle of the stone crafters, and you are?”
“Shey Namear of the Vale of Morgoran.”
“Pleased to meet you, Shey. Now, let me warm you some tea and make you a bite to eat.”
“I would be most grateful for your hospitality, Lady Shila. You would not believe the wretched food I have been forced to eat.”
“Oh, I would, trust me I would, and just call me Shila, dear,” the little woman replied, “and be welcome in my house. I will get the tea.”
Grateful to be out of the dank prison, Lady Shey leaned back in the small, yet comfortable, chair and dosed off.
Kaxen stood peering over one of the ancient battlements of Calanbrough Keep at the ruins of Brightonhold and the dark devastation of the land surrounding the destroyed keep. His mood somber, Kaxen reached inside his coat and produced his clay smoking pipe. He turned it over in his hand before absently packing it with tabac, tamping down the damp, shredded leaves into the bowl of the pipe with his finger. Kaxen searched his coat and cloak for something he could burn to light it. Failing to find anything, he searched the nearest brazier for a loose twig but found none. He became curious, he had seen Asterial light his pipe without fire. He started to draw in essence. At first, it seemed he could draw very little and he considered letting go, but a sudden surge of essence filled him and he continued on. He put his packed pipe to his lips, concentrating his essence on the bowl. He puffed his cheeks lightly as the tabac caught fire and lit evenly. Kaxen smiled as the rich white smoke rose into the air. Well, that’s convenient. He thought.
Kaxen puffed on his pipe and pulled his cloak up tighter around him. The sun was beginning to set and the night air had begun to settle in, but he didn’t want to return to the keep just yet.
“Why not pack me a pipe like that, Kaxen? I could use a good smoke,” Gondrial said, holding out his pipe to Kaxen.
“Gondrial!” Kaxen said excitedly. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, but not good. I will survive though. Believe me, I have had much worse.”
Kaxen noted that Gondrial seemed pale and his hands, still wrapped in bandages, shook tremendously as he fumbled with his cloak. He stood with the aid of a makeshift crutch.
Kaxen took Gondrial’s pipe, packed it with his own tabac, and handed it back.
Gondrial stood with the pipe to his lips for a few moments, staring at Kaxen anxiously. “Well, light it then.”
Kaxen put his finger over Gondrial’s pipe and drew in essence. He imagined the pipe lighting and he released the essence. Gondrial puffed to help the fire along.
Kaxen returned to his somber mood. “When I saw that blackfire come back upon you I thought you were lost. I am glad to see you up and about.”
Gondrial remained silent for a few awkward moments before speaking. “In some ways, I am lost. I can’t seem to draw essence at the moment. Asrion says it may be temporary, but he didn’t sound too convincing.”
“I’m sorry, Gondrial.”
“No, no, my boy,” Gondrial said, slapping Kaxen on the back. “It isn’t any of your concern. I may not be able to draw essence at the moment, but I have a feeling I will with time. Besides, you shouldn’t worry about me.”
“Aye, about that. What am I to do now?” Kaxen asked.
Gondrial put his pipe to his lips. “That’s a good question, but a better one would be what can you do?” Gondrial took a puff from his pipe and blew white smoke into the air.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Kaxen asked.
“It means I am not here to make decisions for you. You have to make up your own mind. It’s not productive to worry about what you are supposed to do, or things you know you can’t do. You should concentrate on what you know you can do.”
Aurelie walked onto the battlement. “Kaxen. I was beginning to worry about you.” She moved in close to Kaxen and then noticed Gondrial. “It is good to see you up and about, Gondrial.”
“My lady,” he said, “it is good to be up and about. I will leave you two to speak alone. I must return to my bed before Asrion discovers I have wandered off. ”
“Good health to you, Gondrial,” Aurelie said, bowing her head.
Gondrial balanced on his crutch and moved away.
Aurelie rounded on Kaxen. “What are you two up to?”
“Up to? We were just talking about what had happened to him and what our next move might be.”
“And what did you decide?” she asked.
“We didn’t exactly decide anything.”
Aurelie kissed him on the cheek and his heart melted away. “Come inside and I will see what I can find for you to eat from the kitchen.”
Kaxen tapped the bowl of his pipe on the stone edge of the battlement, and his spent ashes scattered in the night breeze. “Aye, I could use a bite to eat.”
Chapter 2
Kaxen found himself on the wooden platform, looking into the branches of the huge tree again. Green leaves obscured the way ahead, and he could see the familiar figure beyond moving closer. The branches moved aside, revealing the young woman with dark hair; the branches caressed her lovingly as she passed through them. Her large, brown eyes sparkled with delight as she recognized him. Kaxen felt a sudden pang of love as he stood awestruck by her beauty. She wore a green frock that outl
ined her figure and was slightly see-through while illuminated from the light behind her. “It is you again,” she said.
“Who are you?” Kaxen asked.
“I told you, I am Seandara.”
“I remember your name, but who are you?” He looked around at the towering trees. “And where is this place?”
The young woman opened her mouth to speak, but no words come out. Kaxen saw a look of terror cross her face. Her eyes were fixed on some point behind him. He turned to see a shadow crossing the platform. His eyes strained at the darkness as a black figure approached. It was tall and thin with dripping fangs from a twisted, black mouth. Its eyes were dark and menacing, and two bat-like wings were draped over its back. At first, Kaxen thought it was a Dramyd, but it was taller and looked more like a thin man than a scaled lizard. It carried a thin sword and hissed his name. It swung its sword, and Kaxen felt the sharp pain of the blade striking him.
Startled awake, Kaxen found that his arm was bleeding from a sword wound. Confused, he jumped from his bed to find Rennon standing on the opposite side with a sword in hand. “Rennon, what are you doing?”
“No one will hear you scream, Kaxen, I have seen to that.”
“What are you talking about?” Kaxen said alarmed.
Kaxen remembered Aurelie in the next room and a sharp pang of fear gripped him as he turned to see her door was open and his bedchamber door was still bolted shut. “What have you done?”
“What I was meant to do, what I have to do.”
Anger swelled up in Kaxen, and he searched around for Dranmalin. He spotted the sword shining brightly near a wooden table behind Rennon.
Rennon turned briefly to look at the sword. “You want your sword, do you? You may retrieve it if you wish.”
Kaxen drew in essence and concentrated on the sword. It leaped from its scabbard and turned end over end in the air until it came to rest point first in Rennon’s back. Rennon screamed and he dropped his own sword, trying frantically to get at the sword protruding from between his shoulder blades. His image shimmered, and in the place of Rennon stood the true form of a Krullen Thul. Its wings were beating furiously as he tossed and turned to get Dranmalin.
On the Wings of Dragons: Path of the Wielders 3 Page 1
