Bk 0 Dracones Primalthorn Prequel

by Sheri-Lynn Marean

  Skulla had often seen the ancient rounded domicile that rose two stories high from the sky. But now up close, he could see the orange and black striped prickly vines that grew strong up the sides. A vine he’d never seen anywhere else on Tartaria.

  ‘Skulla? What’s happened?’ There was panic in Kiah’s voice as it whipped suddenly through his mind. As soon as Dai had disappeared, Skulla had immediately thrown up his shields, but obviously they weren’t strong enough. He quickly strengthened them before daring to answer, so that his mate wouldn’t catch the depths of his despair. ‘I have sent Adarias and Jaxsaron to you, they will explain. I will be back as soon as possible,’ he promised, praying that he’d be able to keep that promise.

  ‘Please, Skulla, tell me! I sense … I don’t sense Daimon, where is he?’ she cried, unable to feel the life of one of her young.

  ‘Take care of your Mata,’ he instructed his other young who were near his mate. Another sharp pain pierced his heart that he couldn’t be there for her, for any of them, at this very moment.

  The foreboding that hadn’t gone away since it first arrived, bloomed darker. Like an insidious black cloud it hovered over his soul. He’d never have thought that anything could be worse than losing one’s own offspring, but somehow, he knew he was wrong. This day was about to get a whole lot worse, and if his intuition was correct, not just for him. He was only glad his other two dragonsons had gotten away.

  Lost to his own misery, Skulla followed the warriors into a large conservatory filled with stained glass windows. Beautiful pieces of art that depicted various scenes of life, birth, battle and death. Numerous species of plant life surrounded him, both as beautiful and deadly in looks as he was sure they were in reality. He absently took in his surroundings, as a lifetime of being cautious forced him to do, though it was only reflex. He really didn’t see anything.

  “Here,” one of the warrior’s said, indicating where Skulla should wait while they went to speak with their queen.

  Skulla stood in silence, mere feet from a raised dais where the witch ranted at her warriors. Magic began to flow. It slid over and through him, misting on the air all around, as the conservatory began to fill with Ilyium. Warriors first, then other males. Finally females entered along with the young and old.

  Skulla ignored them all, drowning in his own sorrow. His long black hair hung in his face as he stared at the soft doeskin boot in his hands, until he finally heard his name mentioned. He raised his head and glanced around at the angry devastated faces, understanding their grief all too well.

  Then everyone tensed up as the witch let out a long, anguished scream. Skulla glanced up and noted the unreasonable, crazed glint in her eyes. A shudder of dread rippled through him. The thought that the witch really was insane was never as clear as it was now. He watched, horrified, as she silently slashed an obsidian knife across first one palm, then the other.

  The scent of copper drifted to him as Herasa’s blood dripped to the ground.

  Then, she licked the blade, smearing red on her black painted lips as she turned to the warrior beside her. Skulla gaped as she swiftly slit his throat and lifted her face. Her eyes closed as if in ecstasy as her warrior’s blood sprayed her. When the body dropped, she turned to the second warrior. “Kneel before your leader,” she demanded.

  Stunned, Skulla watched the male shakily do as he’d been commanded.

  Herasa stepped forward and ran her blade across his throat as well. A thick silence filled the air, swiftly followed by fear so palpable it made Skulla shiver.

  He blinked and mentally shook himself at the barbarity. Life was too precious to take it with such blatant disregard. He couldn’t help but think of all the rumors, the whispered words he’d heard of how crazy she was. How in her quest for power and vengeance, the Ilyium witch would do anything, no matter how evil. Now, he was willing to believe every single rumor and more.

  His gut clenched with hatred. Hatred directed at Herasa, but more so at himself, for not listening to his intuition. He should have stayed as far away from Herasa and her people as possible. Let them deal with their own problems, like they’d been doing for thousands of years. Now, it was too late.

  In the silence that followed, Skulla was keenly, painfully aware of every person in the building. Still, he kept his gaze trained on Herasa, leader of the most influential druid coven on Tartaria. The most powerful witch only surpassed by the two just now taken, stared back at him from where she stood on the dais. Her long gray hair was wild and streaked with blood, and her black eyes glittered with sparks of insanity. "Skulla, you took an oath to protect my people," she spoke in a scathing, thundering voice.

  Startled at her words, a frown creased his brow. “I took no such oath.” What was she playing at now? Though he had agreed to help, he had not promised her anything. But as she stared back at him, suddenly he knew his words would be of no use. She was not going to listen to him, now or ever, and he would be her scapegoat. Her reason for doing whatever was going to come next.

  Worn out and soul weary, he thought about the loss of his own dragonson. Lost to a cause not even their own, but an Ilyium one. Skulla lowered his head as grief threatened to overwhelm him.

  "You betray our alliance, you betray me!" Herasa suddenly howled. Again, he had never betrayed her, but even after her warriors explained what happened, she came to her own conclusions and it was obvious there was no changing her mind.

  Herasa moved down the steps and circled him. Strips of the black snake skin skirt she wore rattled. Deep down, Skulla knew from the moment he agreed to help the druids fight the demons he had sealed his own fate. Oh how he wished with every bone in his body that he had walked away from her the day she came to him for help.

  Regardless of his mate’s words, it had been his own sense of duty—his own need, an ingrained instinct that all dragonkind were born with, to protect the innocent. In the end, that need had been what pushed him to help the Ilyium. You thought you were all powerful! That no one could touch you? That you couldn’t be hurt? You are such a fool! Look where that desire to protect has gotten you! Thinking that it has to be you, it has to be dragonkind that does the protecting! How are you to face your mate now? Your family? How can you live, knowing your young dragonson is dead, or worse yet, under the mercy of the demons? His mind taunted him mercilessly, pelting the questions and accusations at him, over and over. Disgust filled him. He now had a family to protect, how could he so callously disregard that? Family had to come before all else, even his consuming need to protect others.

  "Not so mighty now, are you, Draco ... head bowed in shame at what you have wrought ... " Herasa's words finally registered and anger began to consume him.

  Family …

  His family needed him. His mate needed him. Adarias would now need him more than ever. Skulla lifted his head and stared back at Herasa. Gasps surrounded him and Skulla knew his eyes were glowing red in his fury. Intense, brutal anger began to build in waves, seeking release. But almost instantly, he realized that though he was furious with the witch, he was even more furious with himself. All these things passed through his mind in mere seconds, and all too quickly his rage was overshadowed by the depths of his loss. Grief once more pierced his heart, dissolving any lingering anger into soul-shattering sorrow, the likes of which he’d never before experienced.

  Over a hundred angry druid men and women, armed with spears or swords, murmured and stepped closer to him in the enclosed conservatory. Skulla ignored them as the witch continued to circle him. He was glad she wasn’t wearing anything else with dragon scales, as he didn’t know if he’d be able to refrain from taking her head. Still, her skirt rattled, driving him insane with the need to take his leave.

  "How could you let this happen?” Herasa’s voice rose with each word spoken, directed at him like daggers. “Not only were those twins the most important witches born in thousands of years, but they were my great grandchildren!" she said, spittle dripping from her lips.

&nb
sp; Skulla’s mind focused on his own loss. Memories of Dai from birth to now took over, overwhelming him. A soft-hearted eighteen-year-old, Daimon was ever eager to please. He hated to see anyone suffer and often ran headlong into trouble, to the chagrin of both Skulla and his mate.

  All dragonkind began their training, learning how to fight and protect at a very young age and Daimon had been no exception. He’d also been extremely dedicated. For the last four year’s he had been itching to join his father and brothers as they patrolled and protected the innocent. Out of his own protectiveness, Skulla had kept him home much longer than was the norm, before finally allowing Dai to join them.

  Skulla wished he’d kept his eager dragonson home a little longer. The thought of how devastated Kiah would be sent fresh tears trickling down his cheeks. He needed to be home with her, and he needed to be there now. Skulla looked at the increasing press of angry faces and knew that he was done here. There was no more to be said. No one to listen. It was time for him to take his leave.

  With a blast of his own power, red-hot swirling flame surrounded him and Skulla shifted into his massive black dragon form. The druids scuttled back momentarily. Then, realizing what was about to happen they quickly recovered. Suddenly eager to make someone pay for their loss with blood, they regrouped and started toward him. Skulla glanced up at the stained-glass mosaic and thought how beautiful it really was. Then, he leaped into the air and crashed through the masterpiece as he soared into the sky, heading for home and his family.

  Below him, glass tinkled to the ground amid the yells of outrage, only to fall silent. Then Skulla heard the witch. Hate filled words spewed at him, cursing him, his mate, their children and all future descendants.

  He flew quickly, but her words magically trailed him. "You took my grandchildren and so I return the favor and take yours times a thousand. By thy blood, I curse you. No male grandchild or any male thereafter will father a child of his own, and all of your kind will be hunted to the death until the time my great grandchildren are returned to this realm."

  And so, the war began …

  Chapter Five

  FOR THE NEXT YEAR, Skulla and those of his offspring old enough, fought the Ilyium who quickly learned that Dragonkind were not easy to kill. Still, the Ilyium persisted until they finally figured out how to take a dragon’s life.

  The death of another of his offspring was devastating, and in order to protect the rest of his family, Skulla finally moved them from their home.

  Yet still the Ilyium found them, this time killing two more of his young. Desperation born of grief sent them moving constantly from place to place. Realm to realm, in order to protect those still living. In the end, it didn’t make a difference. No matter where they went, or hid, the Ilyium found them. Finally, tired of running, his family confronted him. “It is time we return and fight back,” they said.

  Heart ravaged by their loss, Skulla stared back at his family. He was so very proud of each and every one of them, yet his heart was heavy with sorrow. He knew without a doubt that it was going to be a brutal battle they faced and wouldn’t be ending any time soon. Nonetheless, he knew they were correct. While he ached to be able to protect them all, every instinct in him cried out that he should fight back and avenge his lost dragoon’s.

  ***

  A brutal, bloody, heartbreaking ten years passed. With a reverberating roar of outrage and heartbreak that could be heard for miles upon miles throughout Tartaria, Skulla dropped to his knees beside the body of his mate Kiah, and that of his youngest female offspring.

  This made seventeen of his offspring whose lives had been brutally cut short now. As Kiah’s life quickly faded, Skulla’s power began to grow out of control in his fury. He’d long possessed the power to turn all the Ilyium to ash, and the only one holding him back was now dying in his arms.

  ‘Return me to the ashes of the earth and let me fly free,’ Kiah said as she took her last breath. Skulla cried out again, holding her close. His remaining offspring were all gathered around, their grief turning his own into a blazing, raw, all-consuming rage that was ready to be unleashed upon those who had taken his love, his light, from him.

  A cold, desolate shell burning for vengeance, Skulla rose to his feet and surveyed the rest of his young. All were ready to follow him as he finally ended the Ilyium once and for all.

  As he turned away, Kiah reached out to him one last time. ‘Skulla, my heart, my love. Do not do this. There are innocents within the Ilyium ranks, and if you do this, you doom all remaining dragonkind to a horrible death.’

  Skulla halted at his mate’s words in his mind. ‘How is it possible you are still with me? Then he had another thought. ‘Our young?’ he asked.

  ‘I am with them and it’s amazing here, but I had to come back to you one last time. I only have a moment. You need to know, I’ve seen into the future. I’ve seen what will happen if you do what is in your heart. I have seen the result, the future for all dragonkind if you do this. So I beg you not to do what you intend,’ Kiah’s words were like arrows piercing his heart. She knew he wouldn’t ignore her plea. Yet the thought of the Ilyium getting away with such brutality left him forlorn and empty.

  “Father?” Adarias interrupted.

  Skulla waved him to silence, not wanting to miss a word of his last moment with the other half of his soul.

  ‘I feel your pain, your anger, and your emptiness. I am sorry, my love,’ Kiah said, and then she was gone. Skulla had never felt so empty in all his long life.

  What his mate asked of him turned into an impossible task. Not only did he have to control his own raging desire to spread dragon fire over the world, turning every living being to ash, he had to contain his own young as well as they burned with the desire to do the same.

  He tried to explain it to them, but their hatred made it hard to accept what he asked of them.

  “Why?” they asked, enraged and clamoring for revenge. “Sima was only sixteen!” they cried, speaking of their youngest sister.

  Skulla turned to them, unable to give them more than mere words. “Because your Mata asked it of me, of us,” he explained, but still that did not appease them.

  “Mata is dead,” they replied bitterly.

  Finally, hating himself for what he was about to do, he opened his mind and let them all hear her last words to him. Amid tears, one by one they fell to the ground at the sound of their mother’s voice. He hated using their Mata against them, but if it prevented them from turning the world black, then so be it.

  With no recourse, they finally turned to him for comfort, yet with his own heart torn out, and part of his soul now missing, he had none to give.

  Unable to stand the disappointment and grief in their eyes, Skulla turned away and took to the sky.

  Skulla flew endlessly, going where the wind took him for two whole days, thinking about Kiah’s last words. It was unfair what he asked of his family. Finally, he landed atop a hill.

  A ripple of power shivered over him and without looking, Skulla felt the immense presence of a powerful being land behind him. He didn’t care.

  He studied the Ilyium city below, knowing instinctively the one behind him wasn’t one of his enemies. Even if he had been, Skulla was done. He needed to either end the Ilyium once and for all, or let them end him.

  He could no longer honor his mate’s dying wish. The Ilyium had to pay. Skulla understood that if he and his offspring were to annihilate all the Ilyium he’d be dooming his family to the fiery pits of Hades. Yet, if he did this alone, was it possible that he’d be the only one to go to Hell? That would be a price he was willing to pay.

  “I know what you are thinking, and you are wrong,” the large male said as he stepped up beside Skulla. Large black-feathered wings tucked into his sides. Skulla finally turned his eyes on the male. With long black hair braided down his back, the male was every bit as large as Skulla.

  The Stranger stared at Skulla with pale green eyes. His black leather clothing was trimm
ed with fur and a sword with an angel on the hilt hung from his hip.

  “Who are you?” Skulla asked.

  “My name is Zandrazial. Your soul mate sent me,” the male voice was gentle, understanding.

  Skulla took a deep breath, then he looked away, once again taking in the city down below. He let his breath out. “They have taken so much, I can no longer let it go.”

  “I know they have, but you cannot do what it is you want to do,” Zandrazial said.

  Defeat slumped Skulla’s once proud shoulders. He was done. “I can no longer hold the rage at bay. I cannot run from this anymore, I have to protect the ones I have left.”

  “Go to the Fallen, they will protect your remaining offspring,” Zandrazial said. Skulla turned to him in shock. “The Fallen?”

  He would never have considered doing such a thing, for while the Fallen were under dragonkind protection they didn’t socialize with each other, ever. In fact, he now realized that other than their own kind, Dragonkind never socialized with any other beings. He had long ago wondered about that. Now he knew it likely stemmed from protecting their kind.

  “Yes, it is the only way that dragonkind will survive,” the other male said.

  “What if they refuse to accept my young? I can’t imagine they’d be willing to take on the Ilyium,” Skulla said.

  “They are already willing, you need not worry,” the male beside him said.

  Skulla frowned. “Why would they take on such a burden, and will the Ilyium stop if I do this?”

  “No, they will not stop for a very long time, and the fight will continue to be brutal. Devastating. But it is the only way your kind will eventually prosper,” Zandrazial said, sadness tinging his voice as if he too had seen the future. Then he glanced at the city below. “The Fallen will do this because they know what will happen if they don’t. Their future is tied to your offspring, to dragonkind,” he said and though Skulla didn’t really understand it all, he was satisfied.