Catherine L Vickers Guardian Dragons
Book I
Edition 2
GUARDIAN DRAGONS
Aarabassa World Series
By Catherine L Vickers
Copyright © 2013 Catherine L Vickers
Smashwords Edition
This is a work of fiction. No characters in this novel resemble any real people and are purely a product of the writers imagination.
PRINTING HISTORY
Book 1, Edition 2 - Guardian Dragons
Amazon - (e book) ASIN: B00BCK11JQ
(Paperback) ISBN-10: 1482375680
ISBN-13: 978-1482375688 February 2013
Based on the world of Aarabassa where one half is dark the other is in constant sunlight. A magic barrier divides the darker characters out of the Lightlands.
Only the Guardian Dragons and the Changeling can pass through the Magic Wall. When the dragons over hear vamplins plotting to attack the Darklands, the dragon Queen seeks the Ancient Mage for help.
Three young Princes have grown up alongside the Changeling a female mage. Their world will soon change as they are destined for different adventures.
Chapter 1 Preparations
Chapter 2 A Festival Murder
Chapter 3 The Enchanting Healer
Chapter 4 A Soldier’s Death
Chapter 5 Feeding of Souls
Chapter 6 A New Guard
Chapter 7 Brotherly Bond
Chapter 8 A Young Lady’s Rituals
Chapter 9 Sea Whistle
Chapter 10 Huphin Beginnings
Chapter 11 A Princely Decision
Chapter 12 Mother Whale
Chapter 13 Meeting of Friends
Chapter 14 Changeling
Chapter 15 Dolphins
Chapter 16 The Chase
Chapter 17 Confessions
Chapter 18 Tale of a Mage
Chapter 19 Courting Memories
Chapter 20 Voices
Chapter 21 Monshaad Wraiths
Chapter 22 Vamplins
Chapter 23 Banish the Witch
Chapter 24 Guardian Dragons
Chapter 25 A Discovery
Chapter 26 An Ancient Mage
Chapter 27 Kings and Mages
Chapter 28 The Heir
Chapter 29 A Cure
~ Prologue ~
The boy ran hard and fast. His throat stinging from ice cold air stabbing at the nerves in his teeth and choking his aching lungs. Blood pumping fast, heart beating so loud in his ears, he feared it would simply burst and stop him dead in his tracks. He quickly glanced sideways to look down from the cliff top at the wet sands below. Sure enough, his image ran and panted, mirroring his own plight.
‘You cheated,’ he shouted accusingly, turning his back on his image. ‘You just can’t play fair. You promised you would take the longer path because I had a hill to climb. Why can’t you do as you say you will?’
He dropped heavily onto the soft grassy embankment and lay on the cool, lush greenery. It chilled his hot skin. His golden curly locks stuck to his neck with sticky sweat.
His image lay down next to him, still panting.
‘I didn’t cheat,’ his image paused breathlessly between words, ‘I was first.’ Stretching up an arm and waving a pointed finger he yelled, ‘I am triumphant!’ He jumped up ready to defend his place, ‘you can’t dispute that,’ he threatened the other questioningly.
His image did not reply. It was not worth an argument. Instead he rubbed at the cramp in his leg muscles, stretching his limbs to shake away the sharp squeezing pain.
* * *
‘Morte, gather your fruits, your going to the Trade Stones with your father,’ his mother called.
Morte looked at his brother’s stern frown, and half smiled at the lanky lad, shrugging his shoulders in a surprised gesture.
‘Is it my fault I have grown enough fruit to fill a basket and yours hasn’t even managed to break its buds yet?’
‘I don’t know why they allow you to go, your fruits are sour and foul,’ Saurlton replied indignantly, shaking his golden locks as he nodded at the tall lanky lad that stood before him.
‘That’s not true, here bite the plump side of this juicy soft peach,’ Morte offered a tempting piece of fruit that appeared unnaturally large.
‘No, there’s little point. It won’t be any better than the one I tasted earlier.You will give our parents a bad reputation from your tainted products.’
‘Come Saurlton, I offer you a challenge, taste my wares and if you don’t like this one I will confess to having a sour harvest and throw away my whole stock.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ he pushed away the long slender fingers that yielded the fruit. Let me choose my own piece, you have probably managed to pick the only sweet piece.’
‘Be my guest, I certainly have plenty to choose from.’
Saurlton sifted through the basket of peaches, his strong slender fingers separating the crop carefully. He did not wish to bruise any of his brother’s goods but he was determined to save his parent’s reputation at the Trading Market. He found his piece and bit into it unwillingly, squeezing his eyes together in anticipation of the sour tart flavour he had experienced on his last attempt at tasting his brother’s strange fruits. But alas, no, the sweet juices wet his tongue and trickled down his chin in a sticky rivulet, it was truly delicious.
‘How have you done that Morte?’ he asked suspiciously but truly surprised. ‘Your products never taste as they should.’
‘Hah little brother, I have won you again!’
‘Stop calling me little brother. I am not smaller than you and I followed you in birth before our mother had even breathed ten sighs. We are equal in suncircles.’ The handsome lanky lad looked annoyed at the equally fetching tall youth that he confronted.
‘That was why I was given two names, Morte-Bielz and you only one, little brother, because they had to distinguish who arrived first.’
‘My stomach aches with your bitter words and your bitter fruit.’ ‘You love my fruit as you love me, little brother.’
‘How have you managed it Morte?’ Saurlton remained curious of his brother’s trickery. ‘The only way you could have so much fruit is if you’ve used your magic, the magic that you’ve been told to conserve. But yet still I can’t understand how your bitter fruits can taste so sweet?’
‘Mind power, little brother.’ Morte-Bielz tapped his fingertip to his head, indicating his cleverness. ‘I confess all. I have used magic to make you believe my fruit is sweet but you and I know that really it is foul.’
‘You can’t do that to our parents Morte,’ Saurlton longed to talk his brother out of this treacherous deed. ‘When the traders taste the fruit in your absence they’ll know that you’ve tricked them. Please don’t be foolish Morte, don’t trade this fruit until it ripens in its proper time.’
‘Our parents need all the assistance they can get Saurlton.’ The two boys bent in their task of loading their father’s wares on to the readied wagon. ‘I care for our parents equally as much as you do. What I do is good and you should use your magic skills to help them too.’
‘We are taught that our magic is virtuous. It is not worthy to then go and poison the traders. You would do better using your mind skills for healing and taking away the pain that the sick must suffer.’
‘The traders are fools anyway and why would I wish to help the sick, they can’t pay me.’
‘Sooner, or later, you will be discovered and then our parents will be shamed.’
They stopped their task and faced one another with burning eyes, immersed in their profound discussion, their loyalty to one another dwindling.
‘I love our mother and father as truly as you do. That’s why I d
o these things. Our family deserves to be respected, we are the strongest in magic, and it’s time our people recognised this.’
‘Magic is not meant to be used as a tool for power. It ruined our ancestors and you now wish to repeat that history.’
‘You don’t understand Saurlton. I would never dishonour our family. I wish only to increase our respect and let our parents rest easy in their old age.’
‘You can’t be everywhere Morte. You can’t persuade those you cannot see, when they are out of your sight they will taste the true flavour of your harvest.’
‘But you are so wrong. My powers have grown. I have already experimented with father.’ Eager to convince his brother, Morte divulged his secret. ‘Father didn’t want to take me to the Traders Stones because of the riot I caused last time. I coaxed him into choosing me and I was at the other side of a closed door, listening to the conversation. I swayed his mind and he doesn’t suspect a thing.’
‘Morte you can’t use your magic on our parents. What are you thinking?’ Saurlton was frantic with worry, waving his arms around in frustration at his brother’s betrayal of his inherited skills.
Morte clutched at his brother’s shoulders with an iron grip as he revealed his disposition. ‘I have found my special skill Saurlton and it is for me to decide how to use it. Soon you will discover your own skill and I won’t interfere. So leave me to my destiny and I will leave you to yours.’
Chapter 1 Preparations
Rikka ceased stirring the contents of the heavy pot, turning her attention to her portly, idle son.
‘Ye lazy useless good fer nothing,’ she muttered in a whispered breath. ‘Go get more firewood,’ she screeched, hoping to waken him with a start. ‘I need to keep this pot boiling until the Master sends more orders.’
Reluctantly, the short chubby man moved towards the hot air at the opening of the cooled cave. Even this high up in the mid-mountains of Ginnung the sun burned brightly. He left the shelter and headed to a gathering of prickly gauze bushes. A slight breeze occasionally wafted and cooled the sticky sweat that lingered in the folds of his plump body. A yellow bush was close at hand but he had already stripped it of all the branches he could reach, without scratching his flabby arms. Ambling along he turned onto a narrow dry dust path that wound downhill towards a small bubbling spring. Wood was scarce in this region of barren lava fields. This would mean effort and hard work, not to his liking. Lighting a fire in this heat was an arduous chore but brewing a poison for his Master could mean an interesting mission lay ahead. Finding a shady spot by a large black jagged rock, he crouched down. This should hide him well should any of those wretched dragons happen to fly over. Kneeling, he cupped his hands in the luke warm water of a small rock pool and drank the sweet refreshing liquid, greedily. This was a good place to have a quick nap. Concealed in the grey shadow of a looming rock, he lay down, closed his eyes to the bright blue skies, and soon entered into a blissful slumber.
Rikka, on her part, was glad to be rid of such an unpleasant companion.
Memories stirred in her idling mind. In the silence, she drifted deeper into a thought provoking dream remembering her herb nurse mother Nealther, whose own parents had perished in an attack upon their village, resulting in Rikka’s father taking Nealther for his prize. She knew how much her mother had hated her husband and that she had not married the large loathsome man through choice. Her own loathing for her father had been the reason she had studied the darker magics in the first place. Her unwanted son was the result of her father’s repugnant desires. Thankful that he had died in a drunken brawl at an inn, only a short time after she had discovered that she was to have his child, she had never divulged to her son who his father really was. Her father’s cruelty had inbred into her son’s bloodline. This had proved useful when luring innocent victims to the slaughter to provide their Master with the pitiful human souls he so cruelly devoured. Shortly after her father’s death, her mother had wasted no time replacing him with a gentle poet named Ryan. They were quickly wed following her mother’s announcement that she was with child. Rikka had hated her for this. Never able to admit to her mother that she was also with child in her womb, which by rights should be her sibling. She did not linger around to see her baby sister Minnah born. Her own labour had been long, painful and lonely. Rikka had despised her unwelcome son and begged her Master to devour its soul. Showing no compassion he had commanded her to raise the spawn to aide her in his services.
She was his minion. He owned her. She would never be free. Her soul had become trapped within the labyrinth of dark magic. Long ago, she had given up being afraid of the unknown. She believed that her soul would never pass on to the Realm of the Dead and find peace; it was tainted with evil. If her Master chose, he could reward her with youth and eternal life. This was her hope.
This was all she lived for. Now her body was old, but still she served him well. Fedros was but a constant memory of her vile and loathsome father and every time she looked into his face, she could see her cruel father pounding on top of her, sweating and stinking of sour alcohol and stale smoke. She would gladly poison this living image of him, if only her Master would allow it, but her Master needed all of his servants for the forthcoming battle.
Soon he would destroy the protective spell holding the Magic Wall and then go on to invade the Light Lands and eradicate all the weak and pathetic creatures that dared to live and breath. Soon he will rule the whole world of Aarabassa, and then she will receive her long awaited reward of youth and longevity.
I see your designs are faithful to my services Rikka, the Mindtalk of her Master roused her thoughts as she felt the sudden impact of his powers.
Ah Emperor, I live only to serve you, Rikka conveyed her loyalty. I’ve prepared the poisons as you instructed me Master. I keep it fresh and await your command?
Perched on a hard grey boulder she continued to stir the pot so that the potion of swirling putrid oils did not settle. She would gladly let the fire die down in this blasted heat, and bottle the vile liquid but instead she had kept it fresh while patiently waiting for her Master’s contact.
As I have suspected for some time, the Emperor sounded pleased, there is a new Changeling living in our time.
‘Can this creature serve you Master, in your plans?’ Rikka said allowed, her lonely voice echoing in the damp cave.
I do not yet know the Changeling’s identity, the Emperor admitted. This displeases me. I hold information that Prince Leon of the human royal family is closely connected to this Changeling. It may even be him. I wish for you to instruct your seed Fedros to go directly to Lairkland. There he will enter the Royal City of Beldroth, he commanded. He will feed the poison to the guard who watches this Prince’s chambers. He must then obtain the duty of this guard, so make sure he is ready for this task. I desire him to stay close to the Prince until I instruct otherwise.
‘And meself Lord?’ Rikka asked jealously. ‘What part am I to play in this plan?’
None yet, the Emperor replied. You will go and find a village in Lairkland. I expect you to execute the deaths of as many souls that you can feed to me. My strength needs to grow in preparation. Chaos will shock this slumbering world. Go do my bidding, the voice echoed in her head. You and your seed have served me well thus far. My revenge on the race of creatures who seek to detain me in this damnation, is near.
As her Master withdrew his Mindtalk, Rikka toppled off the large boulder and hit the cold hard floor with a painful thud on her brittle bones.
Where was that stupid oaf, she wondered? Closing her wrinkly eyelids she recalled the corpulent image of her son so she could Mindtalk him to hurry, their journey was to begin at last.
Fedros awoke abruptly with a sensation of angry bees buzzing around in his head and devouring his brain. Recognising the unpleasant familiar touch of his mother stabbing at his wits with Mindtalk, he had no desire to listen to her ramblings. He thought drearily that it must be time to return and rolled heavily on to his si
de to ready himself for standing up. Unsteadily, he retraced his way back, forgetting completely why he had come here in the first place.
Rikka greeted him with a look of surprise. ‘Where’s the wood ye lout?’
‘Wha... Oh yeah, I had some but lost it when I saw a dragon flying over me,’ he lied, perfectly aware that he had forgotten to collect any, in his sleepy state.
‘It’s as well that I don’t need it then, for your sake, is it not?’ she leered.
‘So you sent me, knowing I had to melt under that hot sun, for nothing,’ his temper flared.
‘No, you fool. Of course I needed the wood then, but the Master has now given me new instructions.’ Rikka was eager to move on. ‘Seeing as ye have already rested, I suggest that we set off now so that we can get the Master’s plot in motion.’
‘It might help if you let me know the details of this plot, if I‘m to take part, that is?’
‘Ye are indeed. The Master wants you to administer this poison to a guard at the human palace,’ she informed him.
‘Why poison? Why not just murder him, if he’s in our way?’ Fedros asked, unsure why his Master was being so cautious.
‘Our Master seeks to be discreet, so it must appear to be an illness. No suspicions are to be raised. The guard in question protects one of the nobles while he sleeps and ye are to replace this guard and secure yer position in his duties. This Prince is of importance to our Master, so mind ye behave,’ Rikka warned her bloodthirsty son, aware that nothing cheered him more than a killing.
Chapter 2 A Festival Murder
They had little in the way of packing. The road had long been their home and a staple diet of dried meat, rye bread and cheese. Sometimes stopping in hamlet villages, Rikka befriended the villagers with the pretense of being a gentle herb nurse and midwife. This always worked well, the poor relied much on charity and kindness. Rikka lured them, Fedros murdered them, and using the skill of mind possession, their Master consumed their innocent souls by capturing the strand of life as it left the dead body. He had a particular delight for the young, these were of sweeter and stronger essence.
Guardian Dragons Page 1
