Dragon's Rise

by Lou Hoffmann

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Epigraph

  Characters and Creatures

  Map of the Karrighan Continent

  Prologue: Two days after the Battle of Hoenholm

  PART ONE: Ancient Paths and Waking Powers

  Chapter One: Snake Attack

  Chapter Two: Thurlock’s Deadly Wizardry

  Chapter Three: Si Vis Pacem Para Bellum

  Chapter Four: What Happened at Embers Falls

  Chapter Five: L’Aria Sings in the Heart of the World

  Chapter Six: Tea, Oranges, and the State of Thurlock’s Heart

  Chapter Seven: Dragon, Fly with Me

  PART TWO: Investigations and Discoveries

  Chapter Eight: What Makes Living Things Live

  Chapter Nine: The Watch: A Friendly Interrogation

  Chapter Ten: The Inquisition at C.O.W.W.

  Chapter Eleven: Ordinary Things in Extraordinary Times

  Chapter Twelve: Gifu and the Six-rayed Sun

  Chapter Thirteen: The Followers of the Simple Way

  Chapter Fourteen: Going to Ephemera

  Chapter Fifteen: The Shaping Shrine

  PART THREE: Liar’s Laboratory, Scholar’s Library

  Chapter Sixteen: Trouble in Followers Quarter

  Chapter Seventeen: Lay Fear to One Side and Find Your True Wish

  Chapter Eighteen: The Laboratory—Saving Sahsha

  Chapter Nineteen: Power—Magical, Personal, and Political

  Chapter Twenty: Two Pledges and One Good Spy

  Chapter Twenty-One: The Library Incident

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Companions Found

  PART FOUR: Lead from the Heart, Fight on the Wing

  Chapter Twenty-Three: To Kill an Octopus

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Interlude

  Chapter Twenty-Five: The General Will See You Now

  Chapter Twenty-Six: We Have to Go to War

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: How to Lead from the Heart

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Where Our Battle Lies

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Blue Drakes and Zombies

  Chapter Thirty: Han’s War

  Chapter Thirty-One: In the West

  Chapter Thirty-Two: Wings of War

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Bloodred Fire and the Wizard of Ahmadou

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Relian

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Dragon’s Rise

  PART FIVE: The Sun Child’s Moment

  Chapter Thirty-Six: What a Hero Isn’t

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: Sun Child

  Exclusive Excerpt

  More from Lou Hoffmann

  Readers love The Sun Child Chronicles by Lou Hoffmann

  About the Author

  By Lou Hoffmann

  Visit Harmony Ink Press

  Copyright

  Dragon’s Rise

  By Lou Hoffmann

  Sequel to Ciarrah’s Light

  The Sun Child Chronicles: Book Four

  Days ago, with the help of his living sword Ciarrah, Lucky fought through an army of wraiths led by the undead horror that was once his mother. Though he’s seen more bloodshed in his short life than many seasoned warriors, his destiny as the chosen Sun Child of the magical world called Ethra demands more. Otherworldly enemies are regrouping, barely fazed by a single defeat. If they won’t rest, then neither can he.

  He travels to the capital city with ancient wizard Thurlock, but instead of allies, he meets open betrayal. An old friend of Thurlock’s and some young supporters boost his morale, but how much help will they offer against zombies, dragons, and evil magic users? In the epic battle looming on the horizon, everything he’s gathered, from mystical tools to a winged horse, a loyal dog, shifter and dragon allies, and even an army at his side might not be enough. Will he measure up to fate’s challenge… or be trampled by it?

  To Jimmy, who lived across the street, ran faster than any other kid in school, and kissed me on the swings when we were in second grade. Lucky looks a lot like Jimmy.

  Acknowledgments

  I MUST thank again some people I’ve thanked before, because they keep making good things happen: Anne and Dawn at Harmony Ink Press, cover artist extraordinaire Catt Ford, and everyone behind the scenes who put a book together and make it live in the real world. My grandsons continue to inspire me to believe in the souls of men and boys, and my daughters continue to show me how strength and beauty of spirit are the same thing. So many friends: Anna, Karen, Brodie (the chihuahua), Scott, Angel, Jamie, Anne, and the cats at my house. Thank you, one and all, and the same to all of you out there who’ve read my books or smiled at me when I needed it or helped me in any way. You’re the best there is.

  “Did not learned men, too, hold […] that a flying dragon was an impossible monster? And do we not now know that there are hundreds of them found fossil up and down the world? People call them Pterodactyles: but that is only because they are ashamed to call them flying dragons, after denying so long that flying dragons could exist.”

  —Charles Kingsley, The Water Babies

  “In war, whichever side may call itself the victor, there are no winners, but all are losers.”

  —Neville Chamberlain, from a speech at Kettering, 3 July 1938

  Characters and Creatures

  (A LIST of some important players introduced in Book 1, 2, and 3)

  THE MAIN CHARACTERS

  Lucky, aka Luccan Elieth Perdhro, Suth Chiell: The Sun Child

  Han Rha-Behl Ah’Shieth: Lucky’s uncle, the Wizard’s Left Hand, chief military commander of the Ethran Sunlands, bearer of the Mark of the Sun, telepath

  Thurlock Ol’Karrigh: The Premier Wizard of the Ethran Sunlands

  OTHERS, IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER

  Aedanh: Liliana’s renowned stallion

  Ahrion: a legendary white winged horse

  Alahn Kahrry: an elder of the Sisterhold

  Artko Mak: a bear shifter from Earth

  Baneshieldh: wolf who rules his forest, where magic doesn’t work

  Black Dragon: a rare wingless dragon native to the Ehls

  Blue Drakes: a magically mutated creature made from green dragon eggs

  Cairnwights: thin humanoid residents of Ethra’s far north, glacier wolf handlers

  Caveblight: an Ethran animal, single eye, hunts by heat, teeth like a beaver but pointed

  Ciarrah: an ancient dragon-kin girl, Niamh’s sister, now an obsidian magical dagger

  Dawn cats: large wild felines who hunt at dawn, also called venom cats or death kittens

  Gerania: second in command of Behlishan’s Guard, Zhevi’s mother’s cousin

  Ghriffon: king of the flame eagles

  Glacier wolves: a pack-oriented Ethran canine; large, shaggy, with double rows of teeth

  Guriohl: Morrow’s seventh son, Lucky’s boyfriend, also known as Rio

  Hank George: older Earthborn man of the Kotah’neh people, took Lucky in when he was banished to Earth at age 12

  Henry George: nephew of Hank George, last bearer of the Mark of the Others, Sacramento firefighter, California Condor Shifter

  Isa, the Witch-Mortaine: a witch thoroughly possessed by evil

  Jehnseth: an official at the Sisterhold, a witch

  Khoralie: a wizard of Ethra

  Koehl: sergeant in Behlishan’s Guard

  K’ormahk: a mighty, winged black stallion

  L’Aria Tira: young girl tied to Lucky by prophecy, only child of Tiro L’Rieve, possessor of River Song magic

  Lemon Martinez: a grumpy gray cat Thurlock and Han found under the Martinez Bridge

  Liliana, The Lady Grace: Lucky’s mother, member of the Sunlands council, chief of the elite cavalry known as Shahna’s Rangers, r
enowned and infamous witch

  Mahros: ill-tempered, resentful, powerful wizard related to Thurlock;

  Maizie: a yellow mongrel dog Lucky raised during his time as a homeless teen

  Morrow, the Stable Master: an immortal who, with his seven sons, raises horses

  Nahk’tesh: Naht’kah’s eternal consort and her magical opposite, also known as the taker

  Naht’kah: ancestor of all dragons and the Drakha and Droghona, also known as the giver

  Nat’Kori: ancient Drakha stone wright who shaped Ciarrah and Niamh

  Niamh: an ancient dragon-kin boy, Ciarrah’s brother, now an amber magical dagger

  Olana: respected Droghona elder, gifted light-worker

  Olmar: lieutenant (later captain) in Behlishan’s Guard

  Pahlanus: powerful Terrathian Prime

  Rosishan: Lucky’s aunt, Liliana’s half sister, council member, renowned witch

  Sherah: Thurlock’s renowned mare

  Simarrohn: Han’s well-trained mare

  Tahlina: healer at the Sisterhold

  Talon Bastien: speaker of the eagle-shifter clan from Earth

  Tennehk: good friend of Han, spy, nurse

  Tiro L’Rieve: oldest living being in Ethra, only native Ethran shifter, origin of River Song magic, L’Aria’s father

  Windrunner: an old white horse now known as Windy

  Wraith Queen: the wraith of a once living queen; helps the Ethran dead move on

  Zefrehl: Lucky’s horse, a descendant of Windrunner

  Zhevi: young soldier, Lucky’s good friend, L’Aria’s boyfriend

  Prologue: Two days after the Battle of Hoenholm

  Luccan Elieth Perdhro, Mannatha

  AN HOUR, Lucky thought. Two days ago I fought in a battle with aliens and dead people and… ended my mother’s nightmare. Yesterday I went to a meeting where I found out people still hate me. Today I had a bit of “not fishing” with Han, a game of Skippers with Cook, and a game of Skies with Aunt Rose, and now I have one hour before I have to leave. My boyfriend’s gone home, one of my best friends is missing, my other best friend is on a mission, and my dog isn’t even here.

  Lemon Martinez apparently had taken pity on him for once, though. He purred comfortingly—and uncharacteristically—curled into a loose spiral of gray fluff next to Lucky on a sun-washed flat rock in a quiet corner of the Behlvale. Not far away, a worker was singing a rhythmic song, maybe keeping time with the movements of rake or hoe in the Sisterhold’s kitchen garden. Much closer, a pair of hand-sized golden dragonflies flashed in and out of the sunlight, their wings making a droning hum over the splash and bubble of the creek.

  “Springborn.” Lucky had just that day learned the name of the creek, and now he announced it to Lemon, who didn’t seem to care.

  The whole scene could, Lucky supposed, be called idyllic, a word he’d also recently learned. Be that as it may, he wasn’t in the mood for peace and country sunshine. He didn’t want to leave the Sisterhold. Not yet. He had questions he wanted answers to, and he felt pretty darn sure that at best he’d come back from Nedhra City with more questions instead. At worst… he didn’t want to think about it.

  Fidgeting, he drew the Black Blade from its sheath, which was hooked to his belt at the moment, and squinted at the violet gleam echoing the sunlight deep inside the obsidian. It brought to mind another afternoon in the sun, and he realized one of his questions could be answered then and there.

  “Ciarrah.” Lucky mentally called the blade’s name and waited no more than a second for her response.

  “Blade-keeper?”

  “Remember when we were playing… um, I mean practicing sword stuff?”

  “I’m a rock, Blade-keeper. Memories are embedded in me.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  There was no way to know for sure if Ciarrah was doing the equivalent of an eye-roll, but somehow Lucky thought she might be. He smiled at the idea before communicating, mostly just being stubborn, “Well? Is it?”

  When Ciarrah answered, her “voice” had a lilt that might have been laughter. “Yes, young Light-wielder, I remember all that has happened to me and all that I have been told or shown over these last thousands of years, beginning with the day I first met our great ancestress Naht’kah.”

  “Naht’kah, the dragon? The one I read about in that book? Isn’t that just a… story?”

  “Oh, but there is no such thing, Luccan, as ‘just’ a story! In stories lie the greatest truth. Sometimes it’s hidden in fictions, but sometimes at the core of a legend is the true account of what has come to pass. Naht’kah is quite real.”

  “You mean was?”

  “She lives. You may meet her one day.”

  Why that idea should freak him out, Lucky wasn’t sure. So many crazy impossible things had happened in the last year, what was one more? Still…. He began his usual comforting chant out loud. “Normal, normal, nor—” He stopped and shook his head, then gave himself an order. “Never mind! Nothing is normal. I mean everything is normal. I mean whether it’s normal or not, it is what it is, and no use pretending different.”

  That settled that, he figured, once and for all time. Remotely he thought admitting that truth might be some kind of sign he was growing up, but the idea didn’t interest him in the least, so he got back to the reason he’d started the conversation with Ciarrah in the first place. “So, when we were doing the sword stuff, Ciarrah?”

  “Yes?”

  “You said you could tell me about the twelve-rayed sun symbol. Han told me it’s part of my emblem. I want to know what it means.”

  “Ah, yes. I can. But it is a very long and complicated story if you are to know the whole truth. I wonder….”

  Lucky waited, but Ciarrah seemed lost in thought, and he pictured her scratching her beard like Thurlock, which of course made no sense at all. This time, he rolled his eyes. “You wonder what, Ciarrah?”

  “Since I’ve become acquainted with the magic of the Key of Behliseth, something might be possible that wasn’t before. Perhaps you can enter into my mind if you Wish it. Then I can open the door to my memory of the tale I was shown, and you can live it with me.”

  “The Wish can’t work that way, I don’t think,” Lucky said, letting a bit of disappointment slip into his mental tone. “Unless I’m about to die or something, it has to be something for the good of others.”

  “Oh, but Sun Child, it will be. Now do as I say….”

  Though it couldn’t be more than an hour after noon, as Lucky focused on Ciarrah’s hypnotic flash and hum, dusk fell over the Behlvale like a feathered blanket. In a matter of seconds, the moon frosted the Oakridge’s granite face, limning the leaves of the great oak on its summit as they shimmered in a sudden wind. Lucky heard Ciarrah call his name from somewhere below him. Shaking with either cold or fear—because this was a lot like falling into the dark world his mother’s shade had taken him into—he let himself descend into the mind of the Blade.

  In moments, as if awakening he came to another world—a world Ciarrah painted for him. It wasn’t Ethra, Lucky felt certain, though he had no idea how he knew that. And, he realized a split second later, it wasn’t Earth either.

  “This is before, Blade-keeper. The worlds you know as two remained as one through these eons. Fear not. You are safe, shielded in my stone.” After a few seconds, sounding much more practical and possibly slightly annoyed, she added, “Please remember to breathe.”

  Lucky had indeed been holding his breath, though he hadn’t realized it, and now he let it out and began to breathe in a natural rhythm. He relaxed, felt almost sleepy, and to his relief, the blue, gray, and violet dark she’d led him into lightened, first showing traces of red, then streaks of orange, then the gold of a dawn in a world long vanished, the first he would experience there of countless many. He watched that sunrise brighten as the sun rode the hilltops until it came to a solitary obelisk, a nature-born spire of stone capped by a massive clear crystal, weathered smooth and—he c
ould tell even from where he stood atop the ramparts of his city’s walls—without a single flaw.

  HE LABORED in fields, bathed in pools, slept in huts and palaces. He ate fresh-killed roasted meat, drank mead and wine, gathered grain and ground it for flat cakes to be toasted on the hearthstones. He was a babe in a mother’s arms, a child riding a cart behind her father. He was a man, worked a trade, cared for a child, grew old. He was a girl who fought in a war, he was her brother, who grieved her death. Lifetimes and centuries passed and every day of it that same sun rose. Every Midsummer day it crept along the tops of the hills until it lay centered in that perfect crystal, and for the time of less than forty breaths, twelve hard-edged rays shot forth from its center to dominate the sky. And through the many lives and countless years, he still felt Ciarrah’s dark hum in the grasp of his hands, and the Key of Behliseth still sang its light and heat into the center of his chest, and he was still Lucky. He was still Luccan Elieth Perdhro. And especially, above and below and throughout it all, he remained Mannatha.

  So much time passed that the shapes of the hills and valleys changed, seashores and river channels shifted, cities and kingdoms rose and fell, and the end came quickly in comparison. In the space of a single life—that of a palace guard—Lucky watched the sun change. One Midsummer, a black seed appeared at her heart, a corona of pure white surrounding it, and each of the twelve rays broke into a spectrum showing gold only at its center, flanked by bands of violet, green, magenta, and blue. Each year the sun’s gold grew less while the black and white flaw grew larger and the rays flared as if the colored lights were at war. The guard—Lucky—stood atop a watchtower just outside the palace of a great queen, a witch, most said, yet he believed in her goodness, admired her in a distant but loyal way. She believed the world would change forever the next time the Midsummer sun met the crystal, and her magical preparations grew frantic as the day drew near.

  Already, the world had changed. The ground quaked. Storms set the forest ablaze and flooded the deserts. Frightened people blamed one another and fights broke out in taverns, at town crossroads, and on vast battlefields. No one listened to the voices of reason preaching calm and kindness. Privately the guard believed the hate on the ground might be what blackened the sun.