Dragon Series: Dragon Heat

by Missy Lyons

  Alyssa's world began to close in on her. He would kill her now that he had what he wanted. Her life was over and now with her family gone, who would know? Who would care? No one would look at a man with such authority and respect as a prospective murderer. A wave of renewed hopelessness washed over her.

  "Do you recognize this seal?"

  Alyssa shut her eyes, feeling tears taunting her eyes.

  "No, of course you don't. I imagine you can't read, being female.” Alyssa wasn't about to correct him, even if she wasn't gagged. Let him underestimate his enemy. For that was what she was to him now, his enemy.

  His amused voice went on, “The king,” he emphasized the words, mocking lightly, letting her know whose royal seal was on the paper, “has decided you will be sold into slavery to pay for your debt.” He let the words sink in before continuing.

  "You need a hard hand to discipline you, girl. I was too kind to you, Alyssa. An offer of marriage was far too kind. Do you see what it got you? Denying me was for naught. I will still have you. I will get your father's company you wanted to protect, too.” She felt his hands stray to her neck, fingers caressing the pulsing vein there; she strained to pull away from his touch.

  "You will never run from me again.” It was a command; Alyssa shook her head in denial. She would run at the first opportunity. Shudders escaped her as she heard as much as felt her dress rip open at her back.

  Alyssa whimpered, allowing her fears to escalate.

  "Yes, cry for me! I am going to enjoy this.” She didn't want to cry, but one tear had already escaped, rolling down her cheek. Her hopelessness persisted. She had never had so much bare skin revealed for any man. She felt the shame and embarrassment burn into her body. The light drops of perspiration on her back felt cold to the touch running the length of her back.

  "Do you know how I will prevent your escaping again?"

  Alyssa didn't want to know. Death would be the most certain way to prevent her escape. The idea of marriage to the man had been abominable. He was a loathsome creature and received sadistic pleasure from her pain. He proved his mind was twisted beyond control to have put her here in this place. She was at his mercy and she hated it. She could die here and no one would be the wiser. He probably did kill her father.

  With that thought, a new feeling invaded Alyssa. Raw, unbridled, righteous anger. Anger that said Fight! She could not give up or let this go unavenged.

  She would kill the man. Give her a sword and she would bloody kill him.

  Unrestrained anger settled in her. She pulled uselessly against her bonds; her wrists began to bleed, scraping against the iron cuffs. She felt a sharp metal press against her ribs, stilling her movements. Yes, that was most definitely a blade of some sort digging into her back.

  "That's it, fight me. I love to give discipline, and I will discipline you often when you come to my house."

  Bastard.

  Alyssa couldn't help but hear the warning in his voice and the promise there would be more to it than mere punishment. She shuddered in revulsion. In all that was holy, what had she gotten herself into?

  "Have you guessed yet?” Drake asked, not expecting an answer from her.

  She wanted to swallow. Her mouth was dry, and uncomfortable from the gag.

  "You're going to be a marked woman,” he answered his own question, but at first she was confused. Then she remembered something about the Isle of Sky. On the island they were born into slavery and marked young, so they could never leave slavery. Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse.

  "That's right,” he confirmed, whispering the words in her ear, holding his vile body too close by far to her backside.

  She could feel his body taking her warmth, chilling her posterior. While it left her cold, she was still reeling from his words. This man had killed her father. She was certain of it now. She would be dead too if she were born a man, because then she would be no use to him and still be in his way of attaining the West Indies Trading Company.

  "I have arranged for you to be marked as a personal servant to the house of Sinclair, by the King's own hand.” Was the king really behind this? Was it he who wanted the shipping company taken over?

  "If you ever run again you will be hunted until the day you die. And if you escape or manage to come back thinking to take back the shipping company.... Well, you can consider yourself dead."

  But it couldn't be possible, Alyssa closed her eyes; in her heart she knew it was true. It was why she was restrained in this particular manner. Her back exposed, her hands wide, and gagged, so no one could hear her cries of innocence. Not to be beat, but to receive a tattoo binding her as no prison walls could. No paper, no evidence would set her free from this. She would never leave the island again.

  "She's too old to be marked,” a new voice said, surprising her. The new man must be someone who just entered the chambers. Alyssa strained her neck for a view of the stranger. Her eyes wide with fear, she heard him say, “I need to see the proof before doing this."

  "Here's your proof.” Alyssa heard papers rustle again and a bag of coins jingle. “And consider this a reward for coming so quickly."

  So he had paid this man off for marking her? Everything seemed hopeless. Her mind went numb as Alyssa prepared herself mentally for the pain that was sure to follow.

  * * * *

  "Hmmm. This is the royal seal. It does all seem to be in order here,” Jonathan Sinclair said. He had been the marker for his entire life; he accepted his role, as he was born into it. His father had been taught the art by his father before him. Jonathan knew every man, woman, and child alive who had been marked or would be marked. Therefore, it was with great suspicion and reluctance that he answered the summons.

  "What's her name?"

  "It says so on the second set of papers. She is named Gwendolyn Sinclair."All of the life servants were named with the same last name. Every one of them carried the name of the House of Sinclair. So the papers had given her a new identity and a new life as a slave girl.

  She made a high pitched sound of rebuttal.

  "Why have I have never heard of her before?"

  "She is slightly off in the head and her family has had to keep her locked up."

  Still it seemed suspicious. He had never done this under duress or by order of the king. In all that was holy, such a noble honor had never been brought here to this place. The marks were usually given as part of a revered ceremony in a holy place. Not in the bowels of the castle prison. Something did seem to be wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on what.

  Jonathan scowled at Drake, trying to read the man's expression. Steward to the king or not, he never trusted the man and this just seemed so wrong. To be marking the girl without her family present in this dark hole. He could feel it clean to his bones, an uneasiness that stirred deep in his gut.

  He came here, prepared to do what had to be done. If she was a fake, then he knew what to do. If she was of Sinclair blood, well then this was his duty. And if she was of his blood then there were other ways to tell then a piece of paper that said so.

  Jonathan dropped his bag, containing the transfer, the needles, and various inks. He found a rag and poured a foul smelling chemical on it.

  Would he need the chloroform? He had never had to use it to subdue before, just to ease fears of the needle.

  "Most are honored to receive the mark of Sinclair, born into it by blood. Are you my blood relative?” Jonathan let her struggle for a bit, wasting her energy. She was unmistakably shaking her head no.

  "I didn't think so. Hold still for a moment.” He had pricked the woman on the back, causing her to cry out though her cry was muffled by the gag. He squeezed the skin, milking it for the drop of blood he needed. At that moment, she decided to fight. But he had what he needed and the answer he sought. The drop of blood turned black on the papyrus. She wriggled her back, arching and weaving, but Jonathan did no more with his needles.

  "Hmmmm.” He frowned, looking at the blood spot on
the papyrus paper. Not exactly what he expected to see, but then it was the royal seal on those papers. The girl was by blood a life servant of Sinclair. But why had he never met or seen her before? Better yet, why would she deny being one? It was an honor to be a Sinclair. “I need you to remain perfectly still for me while I do this or the mark won't be perfect. Are you going to hold still?"

  Fervently she shook her head, whimpering. She was breathing hard, beginning to hyperventilate, still wrestling against her bonds. A ring of blood already began to mark where she had cut herself on the cuffs. Jonathan would have to do something soon or she would hurt herself in her struggles. Briefly he touched his mind with hers, and was met with a whirling mass of colors and emotions, but she was too panicked to offer him the answers to his questions. She was not cooperating and not planning to help him with this deed. She would ruin the tattoo with her bucking and wrestling.

  At the first sign of her struggles, Jonathan brought his hand up to cover mouth and nose, clamping down hard, as she fought for breath. Alyssa arched her back, wildly attempting escape, knowing it was futile, before succumbing to the darkness.

  "Don't worry, you won't feel a thing.” It was the last she heard before her world went black as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

  * * * *

  Alyssa awoke with a collection of misty memories and to the sound of voices in her head. Voices were not new to her. She had understood the voices of animals. She was been able to read their minds every since she was a small child. Maybe it was how she was able to call on the ram for help so quickly.

  A trait she had quickly learned to hide, as her father had punished her as soon as he noticed it. He told her no one would understand. Normal people did not do that. They would put her in a sanitarium before they accepted her gift as real. Or as anything but evil.

  "Do you sense her? There is a disturbance in the magic..."

  "She must be one of us."

  "How can that be?"

  "Why not call her and ask her?"

  "Is she lost?"

  "Wait, she listens."

  "That was the oddest dream.” Alyssa opened her eyes to see granite walls and iron bars and suddenly it all came rushing back. The week she had spent here. Her thwarted escape and the worst memory of all, yesterday.

  She sat up, quickly reaching behind her; the material of her dress was still torn and her skin was raw. Her touch brought the aching pain to the surface. She imagined the mark in the shape of a lion and a dragon, burned permanently into her now inflamed red skin. Alyssa buried her face in her hands. Nothing helped her to escape this fate. No bad luck. No series of events. No single event had happened to save her from being a life servant.

  She was now a marked slave.

  You are not helpless.

  Her cell was empty. No one could have spoken, but the voices persisted in her head. And outside the cell was silence.

  "Who are you?” Alyssa asked.

  We are like you.

  The power thirsts within you.

  Patience child.

  You will train with us.

  "How if I am locked up here? I will come if you can just get me out of here."

  You can leave anytime you want to; just center your emotions, focus on your anger.

  The air around her was stifling, hotter than she had ever felt it before. She felt so much anger. Anger at herself, at everyone. She was seething. She was irrational. She was downright mad.

  "I will have my revenge,” Alyssa said aloud.

  For the second time Alyssa pushed against her cell door and found it unlocked. She stepped out, relieved to find it unguarded. Alyssa was too distracted to notice the lock had melted where she touched it. Nor that the voices in her head were not of her own making. She would prefer to think of them as half remembered dreams and accept their guidance as instinctual not magic.

  If you want to fight, then come find the Elisaid in the mountains of Jabar. Go East. Follow the morning sun.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 1

  Elisaid Keep deep in the Jabar Mountains on the Isle of Sky

  April 1717 AD

  The whole fort was alive with whispers and giddy excitement. Visitors! There hadn't been visitors to this keep for as long as Alyssa had been there, which was nearly a year now. The keep was a fortress, hidden discreetly from view, nestled in the cliffs; the fort had long been kept secret. Just on the other side of the mountains from the city she had left. Many did not even know of its very existence.

  The fortress melted into the mountain, hardly visible to the naked eye. Some of the rooms were natural caves and others were carved into the stone. Entrances were fortified with brick and wooden doors and shutters. Inside it was elaborately decorated with refined taste to rival any house of titled birth in Europe, including that of the royal palaces. The rooms were cavernous, the halls ornate, connected by tall archways. The halls were lined with magic torches that never burnt out and lit the halls brilliantly. Rich tapestries warmed the walls, exotic Persian rugs littered the floors, but Alyssa's favorite room would always be the extensive library. From floor to ceiling, the walls were lined with solid oak shelves, filled with old and new books. Some old and some rare but all well-loved, regardless of their condition. Very few were new, as the outside world had been closed off for some time, and no one ever wandered in.

  Visitors didn't find this place.

  It was clouded by mists, and magic made it invisible to those not welcomed here. And very few were ever welcomed within the walls. Alyssa's feet were bare to the cold stone floor as she walked hurriedly to the kitchen. She had often wondered who had built the keep.

  She was a laywoman who had not yet taken her oath to the ladies of Elisaid. Alyssa pledged her allegiance at her arrival, but her oath to the sisterhood had to wait until she had studied one year.

  The rumors led her here to this place and she never regretted following them. For surely no one would come after her. Sightings of warrior women garbed in black occasionally left fear in the hearts of men.

  The lack of men among the Elisaid led many to believe that they slaughtered the men or ate them. What other meaning could it have? Not having a man to lead them was unnatural—there were no husbands, no fathers, and no brothers. These sightings always seemed to appear at times when people were too preoccupied with a war or their own problems to ask questions.

  Alyssa's arrival at the kitchen brought her back to reality. The fire was well stocked in both of the fireplaces. Six roasted birds dripped over the fires, the meal preparations nearly finished. The cook was already bustling around the kitchen, preparing extra breads and sweets for the evening meal, and complaining. “Well, if you ask me, ‘tis a waste of good meat to give to them folk."

  "Why do you say that, Hannah?” Alyssa was still too excited to notice that unwelcome look on her face. She busied herself by cleaning the dishes.

  "They don't need any meat where they are going.” Hannah stiffened as she spoke, and kneaded the dough a little harder.

  "But I was welcomed when I first came here...” Alyssa smiled brilliantly, showing her pearly white teeth. It had been almost a year now and next month would mark the ceremony of her oath to the sisters.

  Phillipa brought her salad to the bar and joined the group. “I saw them myself and I tell you they were men.” Phillipa had been a true friend so far in her year of trial, helping her to understand the customs and newfound rules of this place.

  This year has been so alien to everything she had known growing up. Extensive libraries were made available to her and she learned to hunt and do wonderful things only men were allowed to do in her home city.

  "They can't help that they are men,” Alyssa responded. She had known good and bad people, but the prejudice was so extreme here. God knew she had a right to be more prejudiced than anyone here against men, but she doubted that Hannah or Phillipa had ever known one personally in their hermit-like existence. “We are just born whatever God makes us."


  "Visitors ain't welcomed here, missy,” Phillipa stated. “Magic is the only thing welcomed here. You were an exception to the rule, and men are even less welcome. We will visit men but he may not visit us, and those that dare to come here become ours. Just you watch. Our mistress won't let them leave after tonight. They will become slaves."

  "But we don't keep prisoners or slaves, do we?” Alyssa asked.

  "Men have very few uses for us ... but we haven't had many men lately.” Hannah shook her head as her emotions swelled. She almost felt sorry for them. Almost. The men would be well used but none had ever complained before. It was unlikely that these men would complain either.

  Phillipa leaned her whole body over the counter. “I have a few uses for them myself. If I could, I would take one and keep him forever. Blymie! They were so handsome. I saw them coming up the path. Their arms and chests had such fine muscles, and their faces grew dark with beards. I saw them myself, traveling down the cliffs as the dramans met them. They should be here in only minutes. I'm so excited! Aren't you?” Phillipa's face bubbled with enthusiasm.

  Alyssa's face held only anxiety and nervousness. She really didn't know what to expect. She had seen men before and wouldn't be so easily aroused by their appearance.

  Hannah's eyes narrowed. “You know it is forbidden to talk of forever. With the curse upon us, only women can be born. You remember the curse, don't you? The curse that stops us from finding love? If you love a man, he would be killed before you claimed him as a husband."

  "How can I forget the curse? It's not like anyone here would let me forget that blasted curse! I would settle for a night of passions. I just wish I could have my turn first. I am seventeenth in line. By then they'll be too damned tired to pee, let alone tussle under the covers.” Alyssa blushed at the bluntness of Phillipa's words.

  "At least by then they will stay in bed where they belong,” Hannah quipped.

  "I may not even have to use my chains by then to make them behave, will I?” Phillipa laughed.