The Dragon Sands Box Set: Books 1 - 3

by C. K. Rieke

  Lilaci was off in a deep, dreamless slumber when she heard Fewn’s call. “Wake up,” she said in a loud, strong voice.

  Lilaci leaped to her feet and unsheathed the sword from the dragon’s cave. Her eyes darted around but didn’t take long for her to spot the figure out in the light of that day’s dawn. The figure cast a long shadow on the sands. But it wasn’t only one shadow cast. There were many behind him, they loomed large, especially one at the rear.

  “I . . . I can’t believe it,” Roren said, his arms hung limply at his sides as he took slow steps forward.

  “Veranor,” Lilaci said. She then looked over to see Kera sitting up, her jaw hung open. “He’s brought us aid.”

  Watching Veranor approach from the south, he was high atop an Iox, its curling horns framed the commander. Behind him was a string of other Ioxi, enough for each of them, and at its rear, pulled behind was a wagon, with a thick canopy wrapped over it. They all sat eagerly, watching as the new caravan approached. Once within speaking distance, Fewn came over and ran her hand down the thick hide of one of the Ioxi, it let out a neigh.

  Veranor held a look of stoic pride, as was usual, but once he met Lilaci’s face, as she couldn’t help but smile wide, he seemed to have a glimmer of light in his dark eyes. She nodded, and he nodded slightly back. That was the first time in her life, he’d ever done that. It was a symbol of equality in their former ranks. I feel as if I want to cry. Stay strong, keep it together.

  “Lilaci,” Veranor said as the Ioxi stopped before the group.

  “Veranor,” she replied.

  He then looked at the others in the group. “There’s food and water in the wagon,” he said. “Burr, why don’t you go along and get some for Kera?”

  Burr grimaced, but Lilaci could tell he secretly was quite happy that supplies had arrived for their long walk. His pride was strong though. Fewn went running to the wagon. She pulled the flaps out wide at its back.

  “Lilaci!” she called. “It’s brimming with food, and there’s three barrels back here.”

  “One of them is wine,” Veranor added, as he dismounted the Iox. “Kera,” he said as he bowed to the girl. “I bring you this gift for your journey.”

  Kera rose, ran over to the commander, and wrapped her arms around him tightly which seemed to catch him off-guard. “I knew you would,” she said. “Thank you!” She ran off to the back of the wagon to inspect its contents with Fewn.

  “Veranor,” Roren said in a voice strong, but strained slightly. “Thank you. She will need this.”

  He nodded back. “Tell Kera don’t pay any mind to the blood stains in the wagon. Tell her it’s just wine.”

  Chapter Nine

  I’d almost forgotten the feeling of having a belly full of food. And a quenched thirst— perhaps the best feeling on the sands. To have my mouth rough like grit, the sensation of cool water coating every part of my tongue, it’s like magic. That's the best way to describe it, water is like magic for the body.

  Atop the back of an Iox, as it strode mightily along the sands, Lilaci dug her fingers into its coarse fur, and she felt a great grin come across her face. She then let her hands glide up its thick neck and she felt its horns as they wound back, they were gnarled, yet strong and sharp at their tips. Perhaps the best feeling of all, was the thought of Kera sleeping soundly in the wagon at the center of their new caravan. She was like a royal queen being escorted to her new palace. Kera was told to eat and drink all she wanted after Veranor returned with their new assets. She did. Her thin stomach bulged from a welcome gluttonous, ravenous gorging of salty, fatty jerky and a thin crisp bread they called lavak. There indeed is little like the feeling in your stomach of bread, and Kera nestled herself to sleep soon after. Lilaci nearly wept from joy at the sight of the happiness on the girl’s face. She swept her smooth black hair back from her face. Kera’s pale skin and silver eyes showed a glee rarely seen.

  At the lead of the caravan was Veranor, sitting strong, and mysterious—yet full of pride for the acquisition of the Ioxi. Fewn rode behind, who found herself brimming with enjoyment to be atop of the greatest beasts in all of the Arr. For what was a somber atmosphere the day prior, all of them couldn’t help but feel . . . blessed, finally. Even Burr, who rode behind Lilaci, who rode next to the wagon, mounted his Iox eagerly. He knew that their journey that was to take forty days, would easily now be a week shorter.

  Lilaci looked back at him, his hood covering his head as they rode. He was swaying back and forth slightly, she thought he was drifting off to sleep himself. Behind him was Roren, who caught Lilaci’s gaze. He peered up at her with his bright blue eyes under the light tan hood. His gaze was unwavering. Under the midday sun, Lilaci turned back to look forward. She kicked the Iox on its side with her heals, and it picked up the pace, until she rode next to Fewn. Lilaci noticed that Veranor shifted slightly his posture to his right, as to listen.

  “Fewn,” Lilaci said. “I know you already feel this too, but we’ve got to come up with a more defined plan. We could be attacked any moment by the Reevins or those dragons Kera saw in her vision.” Fewn took a deep breath and nodded. “We are at an advantage of easier travel now, but we still stand little chance of fighting off an army, should one come.”

  “Or dragons,” Fewn said.

  “Or dragons,” Lilaci agreed.

  “We need to find another egg.” Veranor turned his head back to them.

  “We don’t know where it is,” Lilaci said. “Until we have some better idea of its location, we are merely at the mercy of the sands, and Kera’s vision said she’d be alone. There is no way in the Eternal Fires that is going to happen again. Something is coming. Whatever it is, we can’t let our guard down.”

  “We’re stronger together than you may think,” Veranor said. “If a dragon comes, we will do whatever it takes to defeat it. You have the gift of violet fire, you can control the sands themselves. Why do you worry so for what comes? Let it come. The sooner an attack, the sooner our victory.”

  “You have only arrived at this new world we are in. You lived in your fortress eating grapes and reading texts,” she said. “What fight have you been in since you were deemed commander? What have you had to protect? All you ever did was take what you wanted.”

  “Fair point,” Fewn said.

  Veranor spat on the sand. “I’ve been at war my entire life. You would not understand.”

  “You’ve been at war?” Lilaci said and spat herself. “I lost my family. Fewn lost her family. We were forced into slavery—by you!”

  “No, that’s not correct,” he said. “I did not invent the way of the Scaethers, that was well defined before my own family was killed when I was taken.”

  There was a silence then, and Lilaci and Fewn looked at each other curiously.

  Fewn leaned forward on her Iox, toward Veranor that still road in front of them. “You . . . were taken?” He didn’t respond. “We all thought . . . Well, I suppose we never really thought about it. You always seemed like you were born commander.” Again, no response.

  “So what plan do you want to make?” he asked Lilaci after a few moments.

  “Well, for a start, we are going to be getting dangerously close to Voru, even if we are south, and a Lu-Polini under the sun stands out like a golden rat in a pack. Say, when we reach the Xertans, and there is an egg in those mountains . . . They stretch out for hundreds of miles in every direction. Are we going to have to rely on another of Kera’s visions to lead us to it? After all, that's the only way Herradax was born.”

  “I suppose so,” he said. “Yes, that’s the plan. Until then, we should focus on our defenses. You are right that we are vulnerable now. But that’s the new reality of walking the sands with the Dragon’s Breath.”

  “Riding the sands,” Fewn said. “And does it ever feel amazing!”

  “Well,” Lilaci said. “The Reevins. Every time they attack now, they are in greater numbers, and with a new manner of beast each time.”

 
; Veranor spat again, and took his watersack up, uncorked its top with a pop, and drank. “Reevins,” he said sneering “Failed mages, let them come. Best to exterminate their lot anyways. You’ve killed them every time, right? There then. Why worry about such trivial things, Lilaci? It’s a waste of focus. I thought I taught you better than that.”

  “I killed every one of those bastards, yes,” she said. “But I’ve been nearly killed as well, they’re cunning, as all wizards are.” They weren’t easy battles, you weren’t there. You don’t know. Has he ever had to survive against those powerful wizards?

  “Yet, here you are,” he said, “while they rot and feed the vultures. Better worry about dragons than Reevins.”

  Lilaci hated to admit it to herself but being around the commander sent a strange sense of security in her, and she could tell in Fewn also. It was ingrained in them, deep. He’s so sure of our victory, and of whatever lies ahead. If he were the one to wield the Sanzoral, he truly would be a ruthless, and historic warrior. He would probably suggest that we simply wipe the city of Voru from the map, bury it in a sandstorm of epic means.

  “How do you fight a dragon?” Fewn asked. “That wasn’t something we were ever taught.”

  “That’s old knowledge,” he said. “Buried in old texts. The best offense against a dragon is sheer numbers. Armies are what the gods used to defeat them. And best to have a commander at their helm with the Sanzoral. Gorg the Knight of the Blackblade, the Sanzoral was created by Dânoz for him specifically. He was perhaps the most powerful knight that ever lived.”

  “Don’t mention that bastard’s name in my presence,” Burr said from behind Lilaci, as he spat on the sand. “The Arr is the way it is because of him. You want to know how to fight a dragon? Let's have Kera send her dragon out upon some Scaethers or Reevins, and let's see what that serpentine risen can do.”

  “You think she breathes fire?” Fewn asked him.

  “She will,” Burr said. “But she may be too young still, even with her rapid growth.”

  “Is she ready for war?” Fewn asked.

  War? I know war is the endgame of this all, but the reality of dragons versus the armies of the god's war will cause untold death and destruction. Is there another way? No, the only way this all ends is with the deaths of the gods, and they’re hiding in their palace in Arralyn. Could a dragon reach their palace of Firen-Ar and kill them?

  “Burr,” Lilaci said, “back in the old Serpentine War, why didn’t Kôrran go out to Arralyn and fight the gods there?”

  “There’s a strong magic that floats through the sea air of that island,” he said. “A magic that extinguishes dragonfire, and a magic that drives them mad. Every dragon that tried to fly to the island went into a wild fury, and all ended up drowning from the spell.”

  Veranor’s Iox stopped suddenly, and the others followed. Then the caravan was fully stopped, as Veranor fully shifted around, looking back at the party with a spark in his eyes. “Yes . . .”

  The notion then shot into Lilaci’s mind like wildfire. “Kera,” she said.

  “Yes,” Burr said, with the same spark of inspiration.

  “What?” Fewn said. “Am I the only one who doesn’t . . .” Then her eyes widened. “Oh wait! I get it. Kera could remove the spell.”

  “Yes,” Veranor said. “Kera could ride a dragon to Arralyn and battle the gods there, without starting another great war.”

  “No,” Lilaci said.

  “I agree,” Roren said from the rear. “She’s not doing that on her own.”

  “I’m not suggesting she do that now,” Veranor said. “But when’s she grown, and the dragon, too.”

  “That may be years,” Roren said. “And even then, I’ll not leave her to her own safety.”

  “You trust her with yourself more than with a full-grown dragon?” Veranor said.

  Roren didn’t respond in his frustration.

  “She’s not going off on her own,” Lilaci said. “If and when that time comes, we will all go to Arralyn, to fight.”

  “Again,” Burr said. “That’ll be years from now. But then again . . .” A curious tone lined his words then. “There is a way . . .”

  “Don’t you dare mention it,” Lilaci said. “I don’t want to hear another word about that fabled curse.” Just the thought of cursing Kera so she’d grow old quickly is sickening. We are not going to hurt her just to let the odds drift a little further in our favor. She’s just a child.

  “Well,” Fewn said. “If it is real—”

  “This conversation is over,” Lilaci said, brushing away the discussion with her hand.

  “How would we even find another Garen Pixie?” Fewn asked.

  “Fewn . . .” Lilaci said walking over to Fewn, glaring at her with the corners of her mouth curled downward.

  “There are ways,” Veranor said. “Although notoriously difficult, as rare as they are.”

  “Well, if we find one, or a pack of them,” Lilaci said. “I’ll kill them before they can say a single word to her.”

  “It’s not a terrible plan,” Burr said to Lilaci.

  “We’re wasting time,” she said. “Ride on.”

  “I’d do it,” Kera spoke up. All of them turned and looked back to the wagon, where Kera’s face had popped out from the canvas. “I’d do it if the opportunity came. To avoid all the death of war. I’d take the curse.”

  Chapter Ten

  Four days passed, overall a calm, welcomed ease of travel was given by Veranor and their new convoy. Even Lilaci’s nerves settled as they continued eastward, with the vigilance of Veranor at their lead, and Roren at the rear as their group of Ioxi wound through the maze of dunes like ants traversing through breadcrumbs, only on a much larger scale.

  They’d all remained well-fed and nourished, never succumbing to thirst, and Burr even had begun to fall to an ease of mind, finding the barrel of wine in the wagon to be a welcomed gift. He’d gone to laying under the wagon’s canopy, drinking the thin wine with notes of elderberries. When he dozed off under the shadows of the canvas covering the wagon, he occasionally let out a loud, gruff snore. Kera seemed to be entertained by his newfound slothfulness. Lilaci not so much. Lilaci knew they were still out on the open sands, and with every new step of her Iox’s hoof, they grew closer to the cities, and the gods. Every step drew them closer to danger.

  The idea of infecting Kera with the ‘curse’ that Lilaci carried had trickled off over those four days since the idea arose. This happened mostly, Lilaci presumed, because she didn’t want to hear any more mention of it. Yet, she couldn’t help but think if they went after a Garen Pixie, that pixie would find the brimming fire of the Sanzoral before it found Kera’s ear. Lilaci wondered how to acquire the ingredients for the remedy of the cure. Veranor spoke of them; the hairs of a queen’s head, the poison of a silverback eel, and the sap of the Everwendren tree. She hadn’t asked him the location of the latter two, as she still doubted the truth of the curse.

  If the curse was real, then were the tellings of the Garen Pixie to Lilaci all true? Because the last of its tellings had yet to unfold, or at least she thought. It told her that ‘one that was in the shadows would be in the light, and one in the light would drift to the shadows.’

  So, one of us is going to turn? Or is there someone still to come that would appear to be a friend, but turn to a foe? Veranor is the obvious answer, and is Fewn the one in the dark that turned to light? I’ve got to remain vigilant, even in this ease of travel. I also can’t help but wonder, if I’m cursed, then Roren is too. I wonder what the pixie told him . . .

  A shrieking roar shot in like the sky cracked in half. Their gazes shot southward, and in an instant Veranor was off, riding fast toward the high dune, behind which, the roar bellowed. Lilaci looked around at the others, and Kera shot out from the flaps of the wagon.

  “It’s her,” Kera said. “She’s come back.”

  Lilaci looked to Fewn. “You go, I’ll stay with her.” Fewn kicked the Iox, and in
stantly Lilaci saw Fewn transform into the mighty soldier she was bred to be. She unsheathed her sword and went off, just behind the sand dust flowing behind Veranor as he rode up the dune. Lilaci, Roren, Kera and a thin-eyed Burr watched as the two scaled the dune, their Ioxi’s hooves tread heavily in the deep sand, and sand slid down behind them. As the two of them summited the grand dune, Veranor held his hand up, signaling for Fewn to stop. They both stared down at the other side of the dune as another roar ripped through the air.

  “She sounds different,” Kera said. “She sounds . . . bigger.”

  Just then, she appeared. Herradax shot straight up into the sky from the other side of the dune, her mighty chest and long scaled-stomach to tail loomed high over Veranor and Fewn. With her wings outstretched, she was easily twice the size since they last saw her. In her flight she carved back to the south, and flew off with strong flaps of her wings, she let out one last roar in the distance.

  “Bye, girl,” Kera said.

  Veranor and Fewn slowly slipped down the backside of the dune and disappeared over its rolling lip. Lilaci’s nerves calmed as she watched the commander proceed without haste, and she slipped her sword back into its sheath. Roren did the same, Burr went back to nursing a headache.

  “You see her size?” Kera asked. “She’s as big as this wagon, bigger even.”

  Lilaci looked over at the girl, hanging from the side of the wagon holding on with one hand as she leaned out. “Kera, she’s grown wild as well as large. Do you think we have anything to fear from her? What if she noticed us, and came after you?”

  “She won’t,” Kera said. “She remembers us.”