“What about Brin and dragons make sense?”
“Well, it’s not every day you find a dragon that’s been trapped in a sword. I thought it would be as special to you as it is to me.”
Dearra’s mouth dropped open at the revelation. A dragon trapped in a sword? The thought of it was amazing, it was wonderful, it was fantastic, it was…annoying. Why was she always the last to know these things? Her voice came out in a sort of a growl. “Explain yourself, Brin”
Oh, that’s just great! Thank you, boy! Really, remind me to do something special for you.
“Stop threatening Darius and answer me!”
Okay, okay. Well, you see, it all happened a very long time ago….
Epilogue
Tabitha leaned her head against Brin’s and gently stroked his gleaming scales. A low, purring rumble filled the cave.
“So, she really had no idea? She must have thought something was going on. I mean, a sword that can think and speak? Obviously there was more to you than just a piece of shiny metal. She just wasn’t seeing clearly, not that she ever does. Once she’s decided on something, that’s it.”
Brin opened a drowsy lid and regarded the not-quite-woman before him. “It’s true that Dearra can be a little myopic from time to time, but I think you’re being a little harsh, Tabitha.”
“Myop…myop…huh?”
Brin sighed quietly to himself. “Myopic. It means what you just said, that she isn’t the most imaginative or broad-minded person in the world.”
“Definitely not. She expects perfection all the time. Nothing’s ever good enough for her. Honor, duty, loyalty, that’s all well and good, but not everyone’s the same. No one can live up to her expectations. She’s so stubborn, not to mention manipulative. Cyrus forbid, someone should have ideas of their own!”
“Tabby! That’s enough.”
“Would you please stop calling me that? You know I can’t stand that nickname,” Tabitha complained mournfully.
“I’ll see what I can do, but only if you stop being so hard on Dearra. Show a little respect, if you please.”
Tabitha rolled her eyes and then stood and brushed herself off as if preparing to go.
“Now, now, girl, don’t get yourself in a snit. I’m not saying that she can’t be a challenge, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a heart of gold. Everyone has their burdens to carry in life —”
“Yes, and she’s mine,” Tabitha grumbled, still brushing at her pants.
“Stop interrupting me. That’s not what I meant and you know it. And, stop swatting at yourself. The only dirt in this cave is what you brought with you. I keep this place spotless.”
Tabitha’s lip trembled almost imperceptibly, and she put a hand to the mighty dragon’s face. “Sorry, Brin. It’s my temper. Sometimes it gets the better of me. You’re not really mad at me, are you?”
“No, but you know, sometimes you’re exactly like —”
“Don’t say it,” she almost growled.
“Fine, but it’s still true, you know.”
Tabitha contented herself with sticking out her tongue, before wrapping her arms around Brin’s strong neck in a firm hug. “Anyway, she finally found out you were a dragon. Is that when she started making plans to get you free?”
Brin winced slightly. “Not exactly. That took a little more time. There was still a lot Dearra didn’t know. You have to remember, she just found out that there was more to me than what she had ever imagined. How could she know that there even was a way to free me? I had already been trapped for a very, very long time by then.”
“Did she at least ask? If right this second you told me you were a person trapped in a dragon’s body, I wouldn’t rest until I saw you saved.”
Brin didn’t wince; this time he shuddered. “Don’t even joke about such things! A person? Me? Even if I wasn’t a dragon, why in Tolah’s name would I wish to have it otherwise?” Brin stretched his wings wide until they brushed against the vaulted stone roof of the cave, in a display of dragon pride.
Tabitha giggled, and put her hands up in an appeasing gesture. “Peace, Brin! I just meant that I would never hesitate to help you.”
“Well, pick your metaphors a bit more carefully, girl. I do have my pride you know.”
“Yes, dearest, Brin. I’m sorry.”
“Humph,” he said, and he settled himself back to the ground.
“Well then, what did she do?”
“That story will have to wait for another day. It’s getting late, and you need to get back.”
“Oh, no!” She looked nervously out to the thickening shadows. “Where did the time go? I’m going to be in so much trouble.
“I’ll be back though, and I want to hear more. The whole story, like you promised.”
“I don’t recall promising, but I’ll be here waiting. Hurry back.”
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Whisper
Whisper
Christine Grey
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
Copyright © 2015 Christine Grey. All rights reserved. Including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to offer my sincere thanks and appreciation to the following people for helping me make this book possible.
Elise Abram, my editor. You helped me find my voice and held my hand through the scary parts. [email protected]
Victorine Lieske, for her beautiful cover design. Thank you for finding Darius. www.bluevalleyauthorservices.com,
Richard Houston, for formatting and for all those late nights where I had just one more question. Your writing has been an inspiration to me. http://www.amazon.com/Richard-Houston/e/B009ZWHTIA/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1453605149&sr=1-1
Dedication
In loving memory of Grandma Mary and Grandpa Jim. They kept every scrap of nonsense penned by my little-girl hand and declared it gold. They no longer walk beside me, but they will forever live in my heart.
Prologue
Tabitha approached the cave and readjusted her grip on the bundles she carried. They were wrapped in coarse homespun and tied with braided twine. She probably didn’t need to wrap them, but it somehow made them seem more special. Tabitha hoped that her offerings would be enough to encourage Brin to continue his story, now that she had, at long last, convinced him she was old enough to hear it, and could handle the whole story, including the parts that, until now, he’d considered too vivid for her tender ears.
After that last visit, she had wanted to return the very next day to hear more, but she’d gotten into trouble for staying out so late the night before without letting anyone know where she was. She also didn’t know what to bring the dragon in exchange for the story; she knew he would be offended if her gifts lacked thought, and that was the last thing she wanted.
That was the least of her problems. The more immediate concern was her twin brother, Brint. They were so very different from one another. Where she was all legs and clumsy, he moved with cat-like grace. Her hair was inky black and reminded her of raven feathers;
his was also black, but glossy and thick and always seemed to fall across his face giving him a casual, rakish look.
That was the way with them. He was so good at everything, and she was…not. She was more envious of Brint than jealous of him. They had been inseparable growing up, but as she grew older, her own inadequacies seemed to magnify, and she found herself wanting more alone time, just so she wouldn’t suffer so much by comparison. Brint didn’t seem to understand her need for independence, and trailed after her whenever she tried to sneak away. Just today, she had yelled at him when he, once again, tried to follow her. She’d felt bad about how she had snapped at him, but it had been weeks since she’d had the chance to see Brin.
She entered the dragon’s sanctuary, and was enveloped in the warmth of the cave, bathed in its usual red glow.
“Finally gave him the slip did you?” Brin asked.
“For someone who claims they don’t hear everything that happens around here, you sure seem to know a lot.” Tabitha set the bundles on the ground at her feet and brushed away the hair that had fallen in front of her eyes.
“Just because I am no longer privy to everyone’s thoughts doesn’t mean I don’t have my sources. You didn’t think you were the only little bird who brought me tidbits of information, did you? I have lots of visitors.”
Tabitha thought Brin sounded just a bit prickly, and she didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with the proud dragon. “Of course you do, Brin! I’m just a little touchy on the subject of brothers right now. I was a little mean to him earlier, and I guess maybe I’m feeling guilty,” she admitted. She looked down at her feet. The hair she had just brushed away fell forward again, shielding her from Brin’s close scrutiny.
“You were mean to him? That doesn’t sound like you. Feisty, stubborn, and impatient, certainly, but not mean.”
“Thanks a lot, Brin. You really know how to cheer a girl right up.”
“Don’t get cranky with me, young lady. I’m just stating the facts. If you don’t like the descriptors, then do something about it.”
Tabitha sighed before nodding mutely.
“What exactly did you do?”
“He was following me, you know, like he always does, and I lost my patience. I yelled at him to leave me alone. He said he was sorry, and that he didn’t mean to be such a pest, and he walked away, but I could tell he was really hurt by it.”
“He’ll get over it, Tabitha. You’ve done a lot worse than that, and he’s always forgiven you before.”
That part was true enough. She had been losing her temper since she was a baby. Brint, by contrast, was almost always even-tempered and cheerful. When, on the rare occasion he did get angry, it was something to see! “I guess so,” she said, “but—”
“But nothing. I’m right, as I always am.
“Now, are you going to stand there moping, or are you going to show me what you brought me?”
Tabitha shrugged and untied the first bundle. She held up an expertly tanned sheep skin. The leather was finely grained and had been stained a rich brown. Brin nodded at her and indicated with a look that she should add it to the basket in the far corner, which already held several others of its kind.
She unwrapped the second package to reveal a smoked ham of some size. Storytelling was hungry work, and she figured he might enjoy a little snack while he spoke. Brin showed real interest in the meat when Tabitha placed it before him. She smiled at her friend as he swallowed the entire offering in a single bite.
She undid the cord on the final package and withdrew a necklace which she held out for Brin’s inspection.
“Where did you ever find amber?” Brin asked.
“I traded for it. I made a paste for Milton’s sore joints for a whole year, and this was my payment.”
“I don’t recognize the fiber you used to make the cord. Is that horse hair?”
Tabitha snorted a little before saying, “Close, but not quite. It’s my hair.”
Brin looked at her sharply, but elected not to chastise her for her self-deprecation. “I accept your generous gifts. I gather you are here for more of the story, am I right?”
“Of course. Didn’t you just tell me that you were always right?”
“Stop being impertinent, and sit down,” Brin scolded.
“Now, let me see, where was I?
“Oh, yes. Dearra had just found out about me.
“Wait! I shouldn’t neglect Phillip’s story either. Yes, I should share that, too. I think it will help you understand more.”
“Phillip? Wasn’t he in Parsaia? Could you really hear him all the way across the ocean?”
“No, thank Tolah! I had enough in my head with the people of Maj, alone. My range wasn’t anywhere near that far, I’m happy to say.” Brin paused long enough to search through his hoard. When he turned back to Tabby, he had a stack of loose papers in his clawed hand. “These were his journal entries. Phillip proved to be a very resourceful little boy.”
“He kept a journal while he was with the Breken? How did you ever find it?”
“This will go a lot smoother if you save the questions and just let me tell the story, Tabby.”
Tabitha was so anxious for Brin to continue that she ignored his use of the nickname that she loathed.
“Sorry, Brin. Go ahead. I’m listening.”
The dragon spread the pages of the journal before him, found what he was looking for, and began to read.
Chapter 1
Phillip
They gave me some stuff to write with. The scarred one thought it was funny when I said I wanted to keep a journal for my family. I don’t care if they do laugh at me, as long as they keep giving me paper to write on.
Father, I know you would want to know what happened to me. I have tried real hard to be brave and make you proud, but it is pretty scary here. I thought they would beat me a lot, but they don’t. Mostly they ignore me, which can make getting food pretty tough, but I manage.
I made a friend. It’s a girl. Her name is Zusia (I think that’s how it’s spelled). I call her Zuzu, mostly because she hates it when I do, and she is so funny when she is mad, and it makes me laugh. I told her when you come get me, we will take her with us. She says you aren’t coming, but I know you will.
I hope you come fast. I want to go home.
Chapter 2
Dearra’s mouth dropped open at the revelation. A dragon trapped in a sword? The thought of it was amazing, it was wonderful, it was fantastic, it was…annoying. Why was she always the last to know these things? Her voice came out in a sort of a growl. “Explain yourself, Brin”
Oh, that’s just great! Thank you, boy! Really, remind me to do something special for you.
“Stop threatening Darius and answer me!”
Okay, okay. Well, you see, it all happened a very long time ago, Dearra. It’s been almost a millennia now. I was young then, and very proud, although, truth be told, I had much to be proud of. You’ve never seen scales the color of mine, Dearra—red, but not just any old red. I looked like the sunrise. I shimmered, and my colors swirled together so as to overwhelm onlookers with my magnificence. My eyes were like liquid gold, and—
“I got it, Brin. You were beyond beautiful. Can we get back to the story, please?”
Humph! Not very patient are you? That is part of the story. Well, anyway, it’s part of how it happened. You see, there was this wizard. I despise wizards; you can’t trust one as far as you can throw him, although I can throw pretty far.
Did I ever tell you about the time I was bothered by a band of thieves? No, no, of course not. You only just found out about me—
“Brin, please! I’m begging you; stick to the story.”
Fine, but you really are missing out on some wonderful adventures.
So this particular wizard—Hathel, by name—was a very ambitious man, but with very little in the way of skill. He excelled at subterfuge and deception, but his magical abilities were mediocre at best. One of the other wizards in hi
s brotherhood—and I use the term very loosely—was exceptionally talented. Hathel was jealous of his ‘brother’ and would spend hours planning his downfall.
One day, the two men worked together on a potion to be used in an upcoming battle against one of their enemies. It was a volatile mixture, far beyond the capabilities of the inept Hathel. In his clumsiness, he tripped and knocked the concoction from its precarious perch above the flame that kept it simmering. Only the fact that he fell behind a heavy, steel chest saved him from the blast. His brother had not been so fortunate.
Everyone assumed Hathel had planned the execution of his rival and made it look like an accident, but such methods were smiled upon at that time, and Hathel made no attempt to disabuse anyone of their false notions. He quickly took possession of his fallen brother’s belongings, claiming them as his own.
Amongst the treasures was a scroll of great power. It didn’t take Hathel long to recognize it for what it was, a spell to trap a living being within an inanimate object.
The spell itself was an evanesco, a vanishing spell, which, once performed, would disappear from the parchment, never to be used again. Who had created the magnificent incantation was a mystery, as was the reason it had never been used before. Hathel assumed it had probably been written to imprison an enemy of its creator, and in it, Hathel saw opportunity.
He knew his lack of magical skill made him vulnerable to attack, and now that his status had gone up, he had more reason to fear than ever. But if he could enslave a dragon, he reasoned, then he would have a most powerful weapon. Fortunately for Hathel, I was a most convenient target for his machinations, seeing as I had taken up residence not ten miles from him, in one of the many mountain caves nearby.
The Destiny Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 30
