Chronicles of the Half-Emrys Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Lisa Rector

  As Rhianu prepared to undergo this flight for the first time, she took nothing but a waterskin and the clothes on her back. From her mother’s wardrobe, she borrowed a demure tunic of pale green, which she thought clashed with her skin tone. The style was nothing like Rhianu’s leather bodice with cinching buckles and leather pants that fit like a second skin. Aerona would be fine until they found fresh water in Rolant.

  And so the trip began.

  The sun set under the horizon as Aerona bounded off. Rhianu explained the plan, which was to slip into the good graces of the prince and gain access to Gorlassar. The first step was to intercept the Prince of Terrin before his coronation day.

  Aerona flew on faith, her trust and bond to her rider stronger still than any other bond Rhianu had. Knowing that war required sacrifice, Aerona allowed Rhianu to put her life in danger with the simple assurance she would be all right, no matter what the outcome.

  Her dragons scouted the three realms for years, carefully remaining hidden or eliminating those who saw them. Rhianu had laughed when the emrys established the Dragon Patrols. The dark dragons were indistinguishable from the Dragons of Light, and obtaining information became straightforward as people were increasingly used to the sight of dragons—a pair from Morvith would never be noticed.

  Due to informants, Rhianu learned all about the prince and his coronation. Once people saw a rider who was more than willing to show off his dragon, local townies were all too eager to have a glimpse, and tongues wagged loose shortly thereafter.

  Aerona landed in the middle of the night and took a brief break. Rhianu gracefully jumped down, landing in a squat. She raked the sand with her hands and sifted the grains’ course dryness through her fingers. Bordering the whole western side of Morvith, the far-reaching expanse of the wilderness must have been an ocean upheaved eons ago. Extraordinary. The ground was still warm from the day’s blistering rays. No creatures could be seen. Here and there, calcified rocks jutted out of the sand. No wind stirred.

  This place must have been cursed in the War Between the Masters—the war that caused the incarceration of her master and safeguarded the dragon species in Gorlassar over four thousand years ago.

  Perhaps the upheaval was done to establish the great gulf between the two powers, Aerona said.

  Perhaps, but the divide failed. Her mother found the way across, long ago when she left the immortal realm and came to Morvith.

  Rhianu stretched her legs. She hiked a good distance to the west for the exercise, embracing the shifting sand and the mild air, which slipped past with her fluid strides. The effort soothed her mind in preparation for the upcoming event. When they closed in on the prince, the plan would unfold.

  After Aerona took a short dragon nap, they were off again.

  Close to daybreak, as they approached the border of Rolant, Rhianu searched for the dot of light that was the half-emryn prince, whom her mother had pointed out. This proved irksome for Rhianu, having relied earlier on her mother to discern the prince’s light.

  Why can’t I see his light? Rhianu breathed slowly and focused, to no avail. Aerona, land when we cross the border. I need time to concentrate this infernal energy.

  Her dragon chose a secluded spot of brush near a stream.

  Rhianu paced the small area. How did Siana do this? How did she make projecting and discerning light effortless? I refuse to depend on my mother for any more help of this sort. Emrys could do this. She had just not had enough practice. Rhianu kicked at the weeds and snagged her tunic on a branch. How infuriating!

  You’ll figure this out. Go within yourself. How can it be that much different from the dark energy? Aerona asked.

  Different in the ease of stability. The darkness is always unstable. Its power unleashed with ease. I can’t grasp the weightlessness of this light. It doesn’t quantify and multiply in the same way the darkness does. Its pressure is not negative but positive.

  Rhianu stopped huffing. Around her, signs of life woke—birds sang and water rushed loudly over the rocks. The noise shut out the interloping anxieties in her mind, transforming it into a blank slate.

  Aerona drank from the stream, quiet, not interrupting.

  The light could be an extension of Rhianu’s mind by searching and probing for others with the same kind of light. She just needed to think through the process and tell the light what to do.

  Pull from my heart-center, up through my mind. Reach out and find him! Breathing into her core and flooding the energy up into her mind, Rhianu envisioned a projection of her light seeking the light of others. Gradually, with painstaking effort, pinpoints of light appeared across the landscape in front of her, just as her mother had shown her. To Rhianu’s amazement, an incredible rush blossomed inside. An unknown sensation. Her arms tingled as if a thousand feathers brushed her skin.

  But to her alarm, the closest bright dot was along the same stream, down the hill! Fool! I could have stumbled upon him in the dark and foiled the whole plan.

  The prince’s dot was mostly light, but Rhianu could feel a small, empty spot of darkness, like a vacuum—a seed of doubt. That was usually how the transition to the darkness started, by doubt or fear or pain. The prince would be unsure about his new role as king. Rhianu smirked. Snaring the prince would be easier than charring a hayfield with dragon fire. He would fall for her and not know what hit him.

  A breeze stirred, cooling Rhianu’s forehead, which was covered with beads of sweat from her concentration. She tossed her thick hair over her shoulder and mentally informed Aerona the fun was about to start. The dangerous fun.

  Good, I knew you’d manage. I’m ready, Aerona said.

  Rhianu lifted her arms to the sky and closed her eyes. This would be a different type of exertion as she used her favorite ability, learned from her evil tutelage and used countless times in battle. The dark power exhilarated her and, at the same time, appeased her. Calling on it came to her with no effort. Enough with her light charming!

  In a loud voice, with confidence and fiery radiance, she chanted in the ancient tongue that would allow her to call down the lightning. Rhianu felt the elements in the sky, felt them move together and crash, creating the electricity she required for her storm. She sensed the clouds forming as the energy, terrible and formidable, leapt in a current from her fingertips and released heavenward. Rhianu laughed and squealed with delight. The thunder roared in reply.

  It was time. Rhianu shuddered when the downpour started, and she climbed onto Aerona. They would do the fool’s part—only a complete moron would fly her dragon in a lightning storm, where even the most innocent could be struck, but morons they had to be. A damsel and her dragon in distress and a chivalrous prince to the rescue. He would fall right into her trap and not be able to help himself!

  Into the torrent they flew. The powerful wind banished all trace of the rising sun behind the cloud’s veil it had ushered in. Lightning flashed in jagged streaks to the ground.

  Wait for it, Aerona. Wait for it. The pain will be quick.

  I’m not afraid of pain. I welcome it.

  Terror and exhilaration filled them as their emotions sparked each other’s. Aerona flew where Rhianu directed, right over the path of the waking prince because the rain surely would have stirred him from his slumber.

  Any moment. Rhianu braced herself.

  Before another thought crossed her mind, the lightning struck. A blinding glare, a searing burn—nothing she hadn’t felt before. This sacrifice, like any other for her lord, pleased her. Rhianu’s arms numbed, followed by darkness… emptiness… and falling.

  ***

  Einion and Trahaearn woke with a start when the air bellowed with thunder. Judging by the waning crescent moon low on the eastern horizon, Einion estimated that daybreak would soon be upon them. Lightning flickered in the distance while clouds rolled in.

  “A storm is coming—unusual for this time of year,” Einion murmured. “We don’t have thunderbursts until summer.” He scratched his head. “The
air doesn’t feel right for lightning. What do you make of this, Trahaearn?” His foggy brain groaned, trying to block a dream in which Catrin was the star attraction.

  “It’s definitely unnatural. The air smells funny.” Trahaearn held a wing over their heads as water dripped from the sky. The rain fell in a torrent, eager to escape the clouds sagging with moisture. Einion gazed from under Trahaearn’s wing while the rain sloshed like a miniature waterfall over the edge. Nothing could be made out in the darkness except the bolts of lightning all around.

  Einion jumped to his feet and knocked his head against Trahaearn’s wing. “Did you see that?” Waiting for the next streak of light, Einion squinted his eyes.

  A gasp escaped his mouth. “There! A dragon! I clearly saw a dragon. Is he mad? How could he possibly see in this storm? The lightning will strike him for sure.”

  “I see him. He has a rider,” Trahaearn breathed, anxiety evidently displayed for a fellow dragon.

  “What could be urgent enough that they would risk getting struck by lightning?”

  “Don’t know—”

  Trahaearn sucked in his breath. The dragon and rider were no longer flying in the cracking thunder and blinding lightning but were unmistakably plummeting to the earth.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  INTO THE FIRE

  Einion stared for one alarming moment. The falling dragon and rider would be dead if they hit the ground, if not already from the lightning strike.

  Trahaearn! The rider!

  I’m on it!

  Einion had seconds to act. With a maneuver he learned from his stepfather, he might be able to save the dragon. He called on his energy, compressed and released it, and launched himself with blinding speed. After fashioning his light into a billowy net, Einion threw the contraption into the air and snared the falling dragon. He guided their descent onto a pillow of light, which deflated much too rapidly upon their impact.

  Rolling onto his side, Einion groaned. He had dislocated his shoulder. So the landing wasn’t perfect. He wrenched his arm back into place, and his body instinctively sent light to the injury—the damage would be healed in a matter of minutes. While supporting his tender arm, he pulled himself up, wincing from the effort, and laid his hands on the dragon. She was breathing, though unconscious.

  Trahaearn?

  His dragon landed on three feet, gingerly setting the rider down with his free claw. When his talons moved away from the body, Einion caught a glimpse of the rider’s curvy silhouette beneath a burnt cloak and tunic.

  Her chest was eerily still.

  At the same time he jumped into action, Einion registered alarm in Trahaearn’s voice.

  “She’s not breathing!”

  Einion knelt beside the woman and placed one of his hands on her forehead and the other over her heart. He could sense—could see—the extent of her internal injuries. The lightning had burned her organs in a line across her body and through her heart. Charred wounds peeked through smoky fabric at her shoulder and torso.

  He didn’t hesitate. Einion pushed his light’s healing energy into her core and into her mind. He saw muscles regrow and vessels recirculate with blood. The light sought out the burned, charred wounds and scoured them clean, patched the broken components that carried vital life compounds and filled them with new life. Air flowed back into her lungs while her heart pumped. The woman shuddered and moaned as she came back to consciousness. Einion kept his hands on her, willing her to be still while he finished her healing.

  As Einion looked into her face, he noticed her olive skin, smooth and rich, her long lashes resting against her cheek, the exotic, pronounced curve of her jawline, her straight nose, and her full lips the color of a dusky rose. Given her amount of light, she was obviously half-emryn and except for his mother, he had never met another. What unusual ancestry provided the genes for this shock of red hair that was uncharacteristic of anyone he’d ever met? More importantly, where’d she come from?

  Having restored her body, Einion removed his hands and collapsed next to her, resting on his back. He had never healed another emrys with such demanding injuries. Trahaearn, she was a mess.

  I know. I watched. Gruesome. She must be a lunatic.

  That was crazy.

  I’m glad you saved her, Trahaearn said.

  Me too. Me too.

  The rain had stopped during all the drama, and Einion looked up at the sky still pale from the fleeing night. This turned out to be some outing.

  Compared to this, ruling a kingdom should be a piece of pie—pie made with succulent deer and crispy apples…

  Einion groaned. Leave it to Trahaearn to be hungry after an event like this.

  ***

  A twinge of pain pulsed through her, and she cried out, but it subsided. She could be dreaming, so hazy and misted were her thoughts. Soothing heat blanketed her body as if she were submerged in a warm bath, and she longed to stay in this cocoon. Safe. Free. Protected.

  Her mind was called into awareness—consciousness pulled at her. Leave me alone! Don’t make me wake! She struggled against the demand—the coaxing—but eventually relented.

  She blinked up at the sky. Clouds parted and gray sky peeked out. Wet grass chilled her fingers, and a burnt aroma filled the air along with the earthen smell of rain.

  Where am I? None of this is familiar. She sensed others around her. Turning her head to the side, she saw a man drenched from head to toe, with his hair matted against his face.

  He turned his head and grinned, showing his dimples, his face portraying complete exhaustion.

  She sat up, feeling a flow of energy in her body—mostly from fear. Who’s this stranger?

  And then she saw the beast—a massive, scaled, lizardlike beast.

  Long, sharp teeth poked out of a broad mouth—broad enough to bite her in half.

  Giving a shriek of terror, she scooted backward before turning on all fours and grabbing at soil clods, attempting to claw her way to her feet. She failed clumsily, slipping in the wet grass and streaking her already-soaked tunic with mud. Help! Her chest tightened when she had the sudden realization that she couldn’t recall her name. But no anxiety compared to the prospect of being the beast’s dinner.

  The creature spoke. “Einion, she’s panicking. Grab her.”

  Awestruck by his ability to speak, she whipped around to face the beast and cowered with her back against a tree trunk, begging her heart to stop thudding against her chest so she could make sense of the circumstances.

  The man clambered to his feet and faced the woman. He held his hands out so she could see them while he edged closer.

  “It’s all right. We won’t hurt you. I can see that you’re scared. You fell from the sky off your dragon.” He pointed over to another beast lying unconscious over lumpy rocks. “You were flying in a lightning storm, and you were struck. I healed you after Trahaearn”—he gestured to the burly dragon lumbering overhead—“caught you. He saved your life.”

  Judging whether to trust them or to bolt into a run, she glanced from the man to the dragon. Her body overflowed with energy. She could outrun the man—he looked in worse shape than she felt—but certainly not the dragon. Maybe she could stall until she figured out what to do.

  “I don’t believe you.” She stood straight and squared her shoulders.

  “Which part?” the dragon asked.

  She narrowed her eyes at the dragon, still not believing her own ears. Was this a dream? “Well, all of it. You must have kidnapped me.”

  “Trahaearn, I think she lost her memory,” Einion said. “Look, feel the stone around your neck. You’re a half-emrys, and you’re a Dragon Rider. Do you remember your name?”

  She touched the stone around her neck. How can I escape this? The man could be right. She could pretend to believe him, for now, until she remembered her name. The state of her attire suggested that she had undergone curious, if not, dangerous circumstances.

  The man scratched his wet head. “Can I take your silenc
e as evidence? I’ll wake your dragon. She should be able to assist us.” He walked over to the olive-green dragon and placed his hands on her head.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Einion didn’t answer. His brow furrowed and relaxed.

  The dragon came to, growling, and she flashed her claws. She pushed herself to her feet and bared her teeth at the man who had touched her. Rhianu, what happened? Are you all right?

  The woman grabbed her head and gaped at the dragon. What did you say? How did you do that? How’re you in my head?

  Have you lost your mind? We always talk like this.

  I don’t know who you are, she said.

  I’m Aerona—your dragon. Did you hit your head?

  “I assume you figured out your rider has lost her memory,” the man said to the dragon. “Do you mind telling us who you are for the sake of all of us?” He smiled politely.

  Aerona hesitated, but answered them both at once. “I’m Aerona, and this is Rhianu.” Is this all part of your plan, because you failed to fill me in on this part?

  What plan?

  The Dark Master’s mission. You came here looking for the Prince of Terrin. Well, here he is. What’s the next step? Pretend you’re dimwitted?

  I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rhianu said. I don’t remember. I’m sorry. I doubt losing my memory was intentional.

  Her head spun and throbbed from having someone’s voice echoing through it. What a nuisance! What an irritation! But somewhere deep inside, this exchange with Aerona seemed normal. Dragons and Dragon Riders. This is the norm.