Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1)

by Shayne Silvers

  No one could ask for a better opening.

  “Thought you would never ask.” I drew the pistol at the back of my waist, and shot Tatiana directly in the forehead, the explosive sound was deafening in the cavernous room. Remembering Raego’s warning about blood and the ritual, I quickly lashed out with a blinding bar of white-hot fire, decapitating her at the shoulders and burning her head to ashes in a single second. My fire even incinerated the gore from the blowback of the bullet wound before it had a chance to touch the ground, and then it scored a charred streak in the rock wall on the other side of the room before I released my power. Alaric leapt back at the first sight of the gun. Tatiana’s wound was instantly cauterized, so no blood stained the floor. Her body struck the ground a moment later, breasts wiggling on impact. The room was silent as a tomb as I casually re-holstered my weapon. Alaric finally turned to me, face utterly blank. “I already told you. She dies first.” I said with a cool smirk.

  Tory looked sick to her stomach. “Scary is definitely your forte.” She whispered.

  Chapter 40

  A laric’s fury was palpable. “Perhaps our coalition will not work after all. You will pay for that, Archangel. She was my… most precious.” His eyes glinted with rage and sadness as he avoided glancing at Tatiana’s corpse. “I shall have fun with you later.” His gaze almost made me shiver. “But back to business…” He pointed at the two bound men, the room slowly growing darker as the moon enveloped the sun by degrees. One of the dragon guards began lighting several torches around the room.

  “Both shall be punished, of that I can assure you, but I only need one to fuel the ritual. Only one’s blood must flow to make me the Obsidian Son the dragons have needed for so long.” He brandished the book from a pocket, tossing back his robe so that he stood nude from the waist up, baggy pants covering his lower half with a wide silk sash. “Thanks for this, by the way.” He caressed the book. “I’ve had the morning to study her secrets, relishing in our long history of power. The passage you will experience is rather short, but quite… impacting. Now, decide who dies. I’ll even let you kill your dear friend yourself, if you wish.”

  I stared at Peter, my rage even more powerful than when I had first heard of my parents’ murder. As agreeable as it sounded, I couldn’t do it. It would forever break me. Tory didn’t seem to know me well enough, anxiously shaking her head at me not to do it. My power began coursing down my skin almost as if preparing to form Stoneskin for protection, but it was slightly different. I couldn’t stop it from happening. Alaric pointed a finger at me, commanding me to stop, but I couldn’t.

  The power washed out of me like a retreating tide, spilling over everyone in the room. Each of Alaric’s minions instantaneously exploded into dragon form as it hit them. I tried to hold it in, knowing that it had only made matters worse for us. With extreme effort I managed to regain control of it, fearing what would happen if I didn’t. I was sure I’d just made matters worse for the home team since the dragons were stronger in their true monstrous form. Shit. Misha purred beside me as the huge red dragon I had met above the courthouse, her tail swishing back and forth. I appreciated how large the room was now. With this many dragons inside, there was still plenty of room to run laps around the perimeter for a workout. Alaric had only shifted his arms, but he didn’t look pleased at even that lack of self-control.

  I spoke before he could. “Why must I decide? You, who resorted to a level of violence I have never before seen in my city for a book that I obtained so easily, are not even man enough to condemn your own son? Do you value life so low that you would murder before all else? Yet now you cannot take even one life?” I laughed into the cavernous room, my voice full of scorn as it echoed off the walls. “You’re a crock.”

  Alaric stared. “I am merely extending a courtesy to a guest. If your stomach cannot handle that, then I will make the decision. But I would never pay a thief to give back what is mine by right.” He hissed.

  “Then you could have gone to duel Asterion yourself!” I yelled back.

  His face slackened in shock. “You slew the Minotaur?” He asked, suddenly wary. I remained silent, letting him assume what he would. “I must hand it to you, Master Temple. You are quite a formidable adversary. To slay the Minotaur — the bane of every dragon’s existence — is no easy feat. A battle between him and a dragon would be muscle against muscle, as he is immune to our powers. And I would not wager on my best ten dragons succeeding… myself included.” He added the last in a reverential whisper. “We shall discuss your conquest afterwards, but I must admit that I sincerely am in your debt now. It will be a shame to kill you once the city is mine.”

  I took a deep breath as Alaric stepped closer to Raego, who was rattling his chains in fury now. The chains must have kept him from shifting when my power leaked out, but I could see the fear in his eyes — not the fear of death — but the fear of what would happen to everyone else if his father succeeded. “I am no one’s hound. I wear no leash.” I took a step closer. Misha crouched low, spitting a warning stream of fire towards the row of dragons at the side of the room. They hesitated. She was at least twice as big as any of them.

  “That’s humorous. I recall your werewolf saying the same thing. But he seems to rather enjoy his captivity now, don’t you, Gunnar?” The werewolf hunched lower, tail wagging as he licked his massive canines.

  I tried to stall Alaric as his long, black claws reached out to Raego. The room suddenly grew darker as the moon eclipsed the sun. I was now on borrowed time. I had to do something. Quick. “What did my parents have to do with all of this? Why did they have to die?”

  He looked over his shoulder, and I saw the faintest hesitation. But he didn’t answer the question. That didn’t make any sense. He looked like he genuinely didn’t know the answer. “Gunnar, be a good boy and keep Master Temple entertained.”

  Gunnar growled, and slowly padded towards me, drooling. Then Alaric began to read from the book. Misha abruptly darted into the ring of dragons, bowling some of them over, but a ring of energy surrounded Alaric so that she couldn’t cross. The room grew darker, and I had a second to glance up at my timeline. The moon was almost completely covering the sun now. Crap. I dodged a sailing body of a smaller dragon as Misha launched her back. Tory leapt after her, shattering the dragon’s snout with one blow. I crouched, unsure of what the hell I could do to keep Gunnar away from me without hurting him too badly. He launched himself at me, and I swung a club of air at him, knocking him clear to the side of the room with a satisfying yelp. But he didn’t stay down.

  I listened to Alaric’s speech as I kept my eyes on Gunnar struggling back to his feet. The recital was surprisingly short, only a page, really. His words mingled with the carnage just as I was sure Dante’s Divine Comedy must have sounded as two poets sauntered through the depths of hell, conversing amicably. Ironically appropriate, hence the title, The Divine Comedy.

  Tory switched places with me, keeping Gunnar busy so that I could do what I do best. Destroy shit. I was ankle deep in a war: dragons, a werewolf, and the She-Hulk fighting for all they were worth. Spouts of fire, smoke, ice, stone, and other properties peppered the room as the Skittle’s bag of dragons used whatever weapons were theirs to control. Part of me wanted to catalog all the different types and colors of the species, but the larger part of me just wanted to survive the next five minutes intact. I heard Tory groan as Gunnar bit her arm hard enough for bone to snap, but her fist to his snout crunched enough for him to jump away, shaking his head. They circled each other warily. “Do something scary any time now.” She complained, face tight with pain.

  Alaric’s voice boomed a conclusion. “I prepare the path for the dragons to thrive. I am the first, the father, and the Son of the Dying Sun!” His words tore through the room, a whirlwind of air swirling around him like a vortex of power fueled by the screams of the dying. A promise of what was to come. His clawed hand reached out towards Raego, inching closer to his son’s vulnera
ble throat. Gunnar leapt at Tory again, and she screamed in pain. I reacted without thinking, instantly making a choice between two terrible options.

  Tory or Raego.

  I pulled Asterion’s coin from my pocket and threw it like a baseball. I’m sure it looked pathetic at first, but then it transformed into an icy spear in midair, slicing Alaric’s claw off at mid-forearm, and slamming into the lock holding Raego’s chains. Alaric’s scream tore through the room, momentarily halting the fighting. Raego’s voice finally came out in a roar of such intensity that the hair on my neck stood on end as he freed himself from bondage with an explosion of iron fragments that pelted Alaric like a shotgun blast.

  Then Alaric let his control go, and he was suddenly a pure gold dragon, scales gleaming like a pile of moving treasure. He was huge, bigger than any dragon I had seen yet, but he still had plenty of room to maneuver as he lunged at Raego. Ridges and scales covered his golden form like heavenly armor. “I will drink your blood like a fine bouquet of wine, my son.” He promised with a toothy grin. Even with an arm missing, he still moved with an unmatched fluid grace. He swiped his good claw at Raego, who managed to duck underneath while shifting into his own impressive ebony dragon form, not quite as big, but big enough to battle his father. He speared Alaric in the chest, tackling him towards me in a rolling tumble of claws and scales and fire. Raego jumped away at the last minute, as did I.

  I reached deep inside my power, and called my ace. I whispered the name with every ounce of my will, and he answered the call.

  Black lightning struck the edge of the room, incinerating one of the dragon guards posted there, and the thunderous explosion of hell’s gates opening up filled the room as the doors to the room kicked in, slamming two more unsuspecting dragons into the stone with a sickening splat. Thick, black smoke billowed into the room like fog, but pinpoint silver hooves emerged from the blackness, as well as a set of blazing, fiery eyes. Silver blue fire traced the clip-clop of horse hooves as he slowly entered the room, and he snorted a neigh that sounded both feral and hungry, freezing the marrow in my bones. His pearlescent horn seemed to glow in anticipation of the blood he sought. Everyone stopped to look, confused and frightened.

  My little pony knew how to make an entrance.

  Grimm launched out of the shadows like one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, ripping the throat out of a dragon with his gleaming horn. He neighed again, a chilling, crawling, bestial noise cast into the room, and all the dragons watched in surprise, and then pure fear. So they were acquainted. It would save me the triviality of introductions. I had asked Raego if he was the youngest of his siblings for a reason.

  It made him immune to Grimm’s wrath. I hoped.

  The unicorn’s feathers snapped out in a rattling mane of black and red, and the dragons hesitated as he pawed a fiery hoof at the stone. “Good pony!” I bellowed, but as I turned away, I saw Alaric storming towards me. I quickly launched two balls of liquid fire at his chest, where they splattered over his torso in a wash of oily flame against his scales. He opened his jaws wide and roared, his own stream of fire singing my suit as I dove to safety. I rolled on the ground, trying to extinguish any flames on my clothes before I lurched back to my feet. Dry cleaning could only fix so much, after all.

  I instantly threw out a net of icy steel, tripping up Alaric as he reared up for a second attack. He collapsed, his momentum sending him sliding into the pile of dragons. Then Gunnar slammed into me, knocking me from my feet, and I crumpled to the ground, barely dodging his snapping teeth as my best friend tried to eat my face. His eyes looked crazed, as if he were watching a nightmare of his own making, unable to stop it from happening. My head rang as it struck the cold ground, and stars exploded across my vision as I managed to wrestle his jaws from my face by grabbing hold of his ears. Tory grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, tossing him back into a candleholder on the opposite side of the room. He let out a sad, puppy-like squeal on impact. Misha was down, bleeding from numerous wounds, but so were many of her sisters. I saw her eyes darting about wildly, no doubt searching for her babies in the chaos. Grimm tore through the dragons like a scythe, ending lives as surely as the tool cut wheat at harvest in days of old. Gunnar took a few seconds to get up, and I had time to glance at Raego.

  He was standing near Peter, but staring at me with his huge dragon eyes. And in those eyes was the ultimate question. Raego had heard the conversation while he was bound, and heard that I had condemned Peter to death, but here he was, asking my permission. His words somehow whispered into my ear, one of his abilities perhaps? It’s the only way. One must die to stop this, or we will all burn before his power. There isn’t much time before the eclipse is over. I stared back for an eternity, staring into Peter’s pleading eyes.

  And I nodded, my soul burning away forever.

  Chapter 41

  R aego didn’t even hesitate. He gripped Peter’s hair and drew a talon across his pale throat. Blood spurted across the ground instantly, sizzling as it struck the ground. Then Raego breathed onto his face. My childhood friend instantly turned into an obsidian statue, mouth and eyes wide open in surprise. The power in the room coalesced as he died, spiraling into Raego as the moon overshadowed the sun for a few seconds longer. All was silent for a breath, and then a concussive ring of shadows exploded out of him. The ceiling shattered into a downpour of raining glass shards, some much bigger than others. One of the latter slammed straight into my side, piercing me like a sword. I screamed in pain, feeling the hot fire of blood instantly escaping my body, and the sound of my voice was eerily alone as I stared transfixed at the explosion, one hand gripping my gun and the other clutching my cell phone.

  Every dragon in the room instantly turned into an obsidian statue except Misha, Raego, and Alaric, who lay panting on the ground, struggling to climb to his feet. The other dragons were frozen in the pain and rage of battle, filling the room like lawn ornaments from a nightmare. I finally spotted Misha’s babies, curled up in the corner as far from the fighting as they could get, eyes wide with fear as they held each other, forever frozen in their obsidian embrace. I felt a lump form in my throat at that. Seeing Alaric still alive and unaffected by Raego’s blast of power, I hit send on the pre-typed text message on my phone, and then sighed, exhaustion and blood loss threatening to consume my dwindling strength. Grimm eyed Raego cautiously, but made no move against him, instead neighing anxiously in my direction as he swished his tail. His wings flared out protectively over Misha as she smiled up at him, ignoring the crimson drops that dripped from Grimm’s wings and snout. Fresh blood. On a horse.

  Gross.

  “Nooo!” Alaric’s voice boomed. “This cannot be! I will tear the flesh from your bones, wizard!” Then he was running at me, claws tearing into the stone. I raised the gun, fighting my dizziness, and unloaded the rest of the clip at his face. I’m a good shot, but he was just so big and strong, and his scaly, golden skin really was like armor. Several teeth shattered as my aim hit true, and blood exploded from his skull as first his eye was torn out, and then another bullet went straight up his nostril. Flaps of skin hung from his face, blood pouring over his long, glittering shattered teeth as he continued at me, unperturbed. The gun clicked empty and I groaned, unable to get to my feet with the spear of glass still embedded in my body.

  Then three sizzling spears of light slammed into his ribs from the side of the room, and I heard shouting as another swarm of projectiles peppered him, nets tripping up his feet, and more electric spears hammering his frame. He finally went down, sliding just past me as his claws reached out to catch me as he did. His claw scratched my cheek in a blaze of agony, but not enough to decapitate me before he was safely out of reach. I looked up to see Mallory and the dragon hunters’ leap onto his body, stabbing him over and over again. Several screamed as they were consumed by his fiery breath or were disemboweled by a stray claw in his last throes of self-defense. So many dead. It all happened so fast that none of my other f
riends had even moved, if they would have even been able to, that is. Finally the Dragon Lord was still.

  Between one moment and the next, Gunnar collapsed to the ground, shifting back to his very naked human form. Wounds crossed his body, his nose a broken ruin, and several hideous bruises painted his ribs. He breathed, but didn’t move. Tory fell to her knees, cradling her broken arm and weeping. Gunnar lifted his head to look at me, smiled, and then closed them again. “Thanks.” He wheezed. “Couldn’t disobey…”

  Misha ran over to Tory, her nude body curling around the little sobbing cop affectionately, smoothing her hair with a bloody hand. Tory smiled up at her new friend with a nod that she would be fine. I hissed as I glanced down at my own wounds, glad to realize that they weren’t fatal. One was serious, but as long as I got medical attention soon, I would survive. Tory and Misha finally crawled over to my side, eyes widening as they saw the wound. One-armed, Tory helped prop me up and take off my coat as I struggled not to scream again. With a sharp breath, I withdrew the shard, slicing my fingers in my haste. Tory and I quickly tied my coat around my waist with a sharp pull, making me grunt. I panted, leaning back. “That should hold for now, but I think you should be fired as the groups fashionista. No respectable man would ever tie a coat around his waist like that.” Tory smiled. I chuckled and she leaned in close, squeezing my upper body with her one good arm. “Thank you, Nate.” She whispered into my ear.

  We helped each other up. I felt dizzy, but mobile. Blood instantly seeped through the coat, but it didn’t spread too fast, which was good. I closed off my perception of the pain like my parents had taught me so long ago. Mallory and the dragon hunters watched, maintaining a safe distance as their lips grimaced at Raego and Misha with distaste. Tory looked at my side, concerned.