The Dragon Sands Box Set: Books 1 - 3

by C. K. Rieke

  “You saved our lives once, Lilaci, and for that I am grateful,” he said, and then sighed. “But your actions have brought the ultimate penalty of treason and desertion upon your head. That cannot be ignored. We are Scaethers, that is all, nothing more. If you come with us, we will spare your friend, if you so wish.” Dellanor looked over at Garenond with a look of bewilderment and rage.

  There’s little chance they’re going to listen to me. Their hearts yearn for revenge for their fallen. I can’t say I blame them. I’d probably be feeling the same rage if I were one of them. I can tell there’s no way I’m going to reach Dellanor, he’s wild with a lust for blood. Maybe I can get to Garenond though, he’s wiser. We were all friends once, before I met Kera and found my way. I’ll try to reach Garenond, but if he can’t be reasoned with, there is no way I am going back with them. No way in the Eternal Fires.

  “Like hell that’s going to happen,” he said. “Kill the man and cut Lilaci’s hands and feet off. Let her suffer.”

  “If you come with us, his life is spared,” Garenond said again. “You have my word.”

  Lilaci looked over at Roren, “Well, what do you think?”

  “I think these two have no idea what is about to happen to them,” Roren said.

  Lilaci laughed slightly. Roren’s confident this will be an easy fight, probably because I have the Sanzoral with me, but I don’t know if he’s ever fought a Scaether in combat. They are the fiercest of warriors once the battle starts. This won’t be easy. “You know there are more of them,” she said. “We counted six of them way back on the sands. They’re surely behind us and on both sides. We’re surrounded.”

  “Good,” Roren said. “I’m tired of being the hunted.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dellanor stood with his sword at the ready, his feet firmly planted in place, his body swaying side to side, eager for his revenge on the death of his friend Foro. Garenond stood with his sword held behind his back, the other hand was extended out towards Lilaci. He was willing to barter with her, if only she would come voluntarily. Maybe he remembered her as a friend, or perhaps he remembered her strength, and the power she wielded of the Sanzoral.

  It was merely weeks back when she first used the Sanzoral, and the first time she’d seen a Reevin. She was in the pack of Scaethers with Garenond, Dellanor, Foro and Fewn as they searched the sands for Kera. In the middle of the desert they were attacked by one of the Reevins, and a swarm of wild black birds with no eyes. Dellanor was gravely injured in the battle, and after Lilaci used her powers to kill the wizard, Garenond took Dellanor back to the capitol for aid. Afterward, when the remaining three of them found Kera, and Fewn and Foro had killed all those protecting her; Lilaci remembered her past, and her family being slain by the Scaethers, and she asked Foro to stop, which he refused. They had a bloody fight and Foro was left in the sands, never to leave. She’d convinced Fewn to join them and to protect Kera, later realizing that was a grave mistake.

  “I cannot go with you,” Lilaci said to the two. “There’s too much to be done, and these are dire times. Don’t make me do this Garenond. Your men are going to die, and we were once friends. I don’t want to have to kill you.”

  “You are outnumbered girl, even if you somehow managed to kill all of us— which isn’t going to happen— there will surely be more sent out— after you— after her.” Garenond said.

  “You’re going to meet the gods for your treachery,” Dellanor added. “And when we find the girl out here, we’re going to be heroes.”

  Roren leaned over to Lilaci. “They don’t have her yet,” he whispered. “We may be on the right track if she’s not in the capital yet.”

  “I’ll give you one last chance,” Lilaci said, her black hair whipping past her as a strong gust of wind blew in. “Turn around and just say you never found us. It’d be best for all involved. One day we may see each other when this is all over and we may join as friends once again. The gods are going to die, Kera is going to help us defeat them. The dragons are going to rise. The Old Serpentine Prophecy is true— there is one that can resurrect the dragons to defeat the gods. Water will run through all the lands once again, not just in the Great Oasi where the gods rule. Life will flourish. You could start a life outside of the cities. We could all be free.”

  “Blasphemy! Heresy!” Dellanor yelled out. “This is exactly why we should just kill her here! With every breath she takes she spreads her poison.”

  “Garenond, listen to reason,” Lilaci said. This is it. It’s in his hands now.

  He stood there, his beard blowing in the wind in the desolation of the desert, and with the great Dune of the Last Dragon looming high over Lilaci and her comrade. Looking over at Dellanor, in his wild fury, ready to kill, he seemed to be looking for some sort of sympathy from his friend, which he didn’t find.

  “Dellanor, what do you think?” he asked.

  Dellanor glanced over in confusion and anger. “What do you mean? There’s nothing to think about. We aren’t thinkers; we’re weapons. What has come over you? Let’s be done with this and head home heroes. I’m done with talking, I only want my revenge!” Dellanor lashed out and began running at Lilaci and Roren, who both gripped their swords tightly.

  This is it. Here we go. Their decision is made. They chose death.

  Lilaci felt the magic of the Sanzoral flood into her mind and body, and she felt the hot, burning sensation in her blood, and purple flames erupted from her eyes. Raising her hands, she motioned as if holding up the sky itself, she lashed her hands forward, and with them a roaring wave of sand rushed forward. Dellanor didn’t have time to react, as the wave washed over him, forcing him onto his back. The sands stopped, and he lay there covered in a mound of sand that only showed his face and knees protruding from it. His expression of rage had turned to that of awe. He seemed to have forgotten the strength of her power, a power that had only grown since they’d last seen each other. He looked up at Garenond in shock but didn’t say a word.

  “If this is how it must be,” Garenond said. “Then this is how it must be.” Putting two fingers up to the corners of his mouth, he let out a loud whistle that echoed around the rocks, looming high above them.

  Lilaci and Roren could both sense the movements from the hidden figures, and then quickly they came into view, two on both sides of them, crawling atop two high rocks. They both leapt down, two more Scaethers, standing tall, both with strong shoulders, and both wielding long, sharp swords. Then two more emerged behind them. They didn’t leap down from the top of the rocks, instead they both knelt on their knees. Not dressed in the red sash, and not of pale skin like the Scaethers— these two had dark skin with tattoos on their faces and both wore long necklaces of ivory. They began to chant and peered hard at Lilaci. Their eyes were dark, and heartless.

  “Damn!” she yelled out. “Mages!”

  Roren looked over at her, and she quickly began to summon her Sanzoral again, letting out a great swath of sand at the Scaethers. But then it hit her. Like the searing pain of a hot rusty dagger in the belly, and with the speed of a searing lightning strike, the mages’ spell entered her mind. She yelled out in agony, and clasped her head, falling to the ground. The sand she’d been controlling fell harmlessly to the desert floor. She held out a hand and attempted to unleash another swathe of sand, but the pain in her head incapacitated her. Damn, this isn’t good. They brought powerful mages with them. I’ve got to push through this pain. I’ve got to fight off their spell.

  Roren reached over and pulled the bow from Lilaci’s back and grabbed an arrow. Lilaci pushed through the pain, and sent forth another gush of sand, knocking the two Scaethers onto their backs. Roren quickly strung the arrow, and setting his aim carefully, sent the arrow flying straight and true as it found its way deep into the mage on the left’s neck. He clutched it quickly as blood gushed from the wound. Roren reached over and grabbed another arrow, but once it was pulled tight in the bowstring, he looked up to see the other mage had d
isappeared behind the rock. The Scaethers were back on their feet and rushing towards them. Roren let the arrow fly, but the Scaethers gracefully dodged it.

  “Lilaci,” Roren said. “I’m going to need your help here.”

  I haven’t felt his pain in so long, I forgot how frightened of it I used to be. I’ve got to move past it. We are going to die if I don’t do something about that damned mage. Concentrate Lilaci, concentrate on Kera. She needs you. Shake it off!

  Lilaci rose to her feet, with great effort. With the Scaethers running at them, Roren set his feet and held his sword out, ready to strike. As the Scaethers drew close, Lilaci raised her sword, trying her best to push through the pain. The two Scaethers in front came in quickly, with their swords flashing.

  The loud clanging of swords rung out, sharp and fast. Roren blocked the blows of one of them, deflecting each shot carefully. Lilaci had to let her instincts take over, blocking each blow methodically as her vision was growing blurry from the pain.

  I’m not going to be able to win this fight. Sooner or later I’m going to slip up. I’ve got to fight this fight another way.

  She reached out for the sands beneath their feet and sent a torrent of sharp sand flying upwards at them, stinging their eyes and nostrils. As they moved back in their surprise, Roren pushed forward, this time with his sword burning in hot flames of violet. Bright embers flew from the swords as they collided.

  The Scaethers seemed startled by the heat of Roren’s sword, roaring with hot flames. As Roren attacked, the flames flew down onto the two Scaethers, and one of their arms caught fire. He darted back, trying to extinguish the unnaturally hot flames in the sands, but found the sand wouldn’t put out the magical flame.

  While the Scaether tried to frantically put out the fire, Dellanor shot in and ruthlessly swung his sword at Roren. Even with his sword alit, Roren was quickly forced back by the two. Lilaci knew her tricks were only stalling the inevitable; Roren was going to die unless she did something.

  Searing pain scorched her mind, and the world around her was a blur. She could vaguely make out the color of fire the Sanzoral gifted to Roren’s blade. In front of him she watched the two figures as they attacked her friend. A ripple of yells and grunts echoed in her mind as she watched them battle. The pain in her head had become so overwhelming, it didn’t feel like pain, it had turned to fatigue. Her body was giving up, for it was too much to take, so it began to shut down.

  The air and sky were a blinding haze of bright yellows and golds. What is this new sensation? Am I going blind? Have they put a new spell on me? No— you’re not going blind. You just need to focus. Roren needs you. If you pass out now, you’re going to wake up without feet, and you’re going to be dragged off helplessly back to him. Wake up! Fight!

  Then, Lilaci slapped herself across the face, which only made the blurriness in her vision shudder, then she slapped herself again with her other hand. Her vision only slightly improved. Then, out of the sheer frustration she was enduring, she balled up her fist and smashed herself on the nose. The punch wasn’t hard enough to break it, but hard enough that the pain overwhelmed that of the magic. Her eyes welled with water, but once she wiped that away, her vision cleared, and the pain subsided. Think of Kera and Roren. I’ve got to find that damned mage and kill him.

  She knew the mage was hiding behind the rocks, and she also knew she didn’t have the time to dart around searching for him, so she decided to try something different. Dropping to a knee, she slid her fingers into the sand at her feet and closed her eyes. She felt deep into the ground, letting the grains of sand sift through fingers and mind.

  With her fingers firmly in the sand, Lilaci began to move her hands in a circular motion. Twirling around in the soft sand, she opened her eyes to see the sands had begun to rise and circle around her. Rushing past her, the sands had turned to a rushing cyclone that grew in force with every second. Its winds grew louder as it raged all around her. She rose to her feet and began to walk forward, the cyclone of sand ripped through the air around her as she did so.

  Before her, Roren was fighting the Scaethers in a furious blaze of swords and fire. He won’t last much longer against them, I’ve got to help. Lilaci raised her arms, and with a loud roaring sound, the cyclone doubled in size and fury. The tempest was growing to a sandstorm all around them, and soon the Scaethers found themselves fighting in the maelstrom.

  In the storm, Lilaci concentrated. In the swirling cyclone, she felt out to the sand as it became more violent and raged on. She felt the sensation of the sand as it struck the rocks that loomed high around them, and to her then, it carried with it a particular feeling. It had a specific tone and texture to it. Then, she felt the sand when it hit the metal of their swords, again, it had its one ring. Then, focusing more, she felt when the sands rushed against human skin. It was like as if the sands speaking to her. That’s it. I can feel Roren and the others in the storm. I can sense where they are. Wider. I’ve got to make the sands reach out and find the mage. Concentrate.

  Her powers were growing, and the sands grew to a magnificent storm of immense power. As the sands ripped through the air and skies, she focused in on every surface the sands brushed against. Where are you? You bastard. Where are you? Ah, there!

  The sands had reached the skin of another. It was just beyond the tall rock that stood askew as it leaned to the right. She immediately went into action. Even with the storm a potential help to Roren, she let the sands fall quickly back to where they were. She knew the mage was the main target. Once he was dealt with she would have her full clarity and focus back, so she ran. Dodging in and out of the rocks she soon turned around the right-leaning stone and was only twenty meters from the mage, who quickly lashed out with his magic. His arms twirled as he chanted, and the pain returned to Lilaci. Her legs gave out as she ran, and she went falling to the ground, clutching her head.

  I can’t think through this pain, my visions going blurry again. It’s unbearable!

  Trying to push through the pain, she looked up to see that before her, Garenond had appeared, standing before her with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

  “I gave you the chance,” he said. “Now this is going to have to go our way.”

  To his side she watched as Roren was brought over, his hands gripped tightly behind his back. His face was dripping with blood and covered in sand. Dellanor shoved him onto his knees.

  “This is what you deserve, you bitch,” Dellanor said, spitting on Roren.

  “I’m sorry,” Roren said.

  The pain gripped Lilaci, yet she reached down into the sand at her feet, her fingers feeling each grain.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Garenond said. “If I see even one grain of sand move, he dies. She looked up to see Dellanor sneak his sword’s blade up to Roren’s neck. Then the two Scaethers behind both pulled bowstrings back with fine arrows, both aiming at her. “If you try anything, he’s dead, and you’ll be unable to walk. Give up, Lilaci, you’ve lost. This is the end.” Garenond looked over at Dellanor, fixated on Roren, letting his sword sway back and forth in front of his neck. “Dellanor, hold. Give her the chance to surrender.”

  “Don’t matter,” Dellanor said. “I’m going to kill his one, if for no other reason than to watch her lose a friend. So, she’ll feel the same pain we feel now.”

  “Lilaci, lie flat on your stomach, and throw your weapons to the side,” Garenond said.

  What do I do? What were you trained to do? I wasn’t trained to surrender— ever. If I try to use the Sanzoral, they’ll kill him. If I can kill the mage, I may have a chance against all of them, but without Roren’s help, I won’t be able to fight all of them in a sword fight. They’re going to kill him if I don’t do something, but they’re too far away. If I give myself up, they’ll kill him anyways and this will have all been for nothing. What do I do? I’ve never been trained for this. If only . . .”

  Just then, Lilaci heard the subtle snap of a bowstring being released, fol
lowed by the quick, zipping sound of an arrow streaming through the air. Her eyes shot open, expecting to see an arrow shooting right at her. But to her surprise, both of the Scaethers held their arrows firmly in their bows. A streak of red appeared to their side, and just beyond Garenond, an arrow of Whitewood with an obsidian tip struck the mage. It shot through the right side of his head and left the bloody arrowhead pierced through the other side.

  In their surprise, the Scaethers seemed to be in a brief spell of confusion. Even Dellanor was looking at the mage— their magical advantage in the fight— falling over like a tree being blown over in a storm. Lilaci’s mind was instantly free from its grasp, and that clarity gave her a strength like she’d never felt before. She poised like a cobra about to strike, and then unleashed a torrent of sands up from where they all stood. The sands rushed at them with the force of a tidal wave in the sea, battering the Scaethers and blinding them.

  Roren, who’d been watching Lilaci the whole time for his cue, pushed Dellanor’s blade from his throat and with a quick flash, sent the back of his head into Dellanor’s nose. Roren rolled away from the rushing sands behind him.

  Seconds later, the Scaethers were recollecting themselves in an offensive position. They hadn’t been hurt by her attack, but Roren was back at her side, wiping his eyes and face clean of the blood and sand.

  “What was that?” Roren asked. “Another arrow? Someone else following us all this time?”

  “I don’t know,” she responded. “For all I know it could be a group of people. Hopefully not more Reevins, not now.”