by CB Samet
Norak’s burst of fire was brief, not the onslaught when he tried to burn me to death in his cave a few days ago. The dose of power was perfect. I pushed up and took a larger, gasping breath.
Charles crushed me a hug. “It worked. Thank the moons that worked.”
I kept silent in his embrace, partly because I was entirely too exhausted to speak, and partly because I didn’t want to mention that if I’d been completely unconscious and unable to use my magic, his little stunt would’ve killed me. I decided to save that piece of information to share with him at a later date when all of this was behind us.
I looked around to see both Indigo and Norak staring at me. Judging by the way the horns on the top of their heads seemed to pinch together, they were worried.
“I’m okay.”
They took steps back and sunk into the soft grass, probably as exhausted as I was. Judging by Charles’s dry hair, he must have freed Indigo’s legs in time for them to avoid falling into the ocean, unlike what Norak and I had done.
“Is this Wallos?” I asked.
Charles leaned back, looking suddenly tired. “Yes. We reached the Robink Channel just as the dragon hunters attacked us.”
“And the poachers?”
“The last I saw the ship was sinking into the ocean.”
I nodded firmly. I had no compunction about destroying their ship. Dragon hunting was illegal. I’d been at the Intercontinental Summit four years ago when we had not only established certain human rights but animal rights as well. Among them included not attacking dragons unless it was for the safety of an individual or group of individuals. The trading of any dragon parts—teeth, scales, claws, or preserved organs—was strictly prohibited. Enforcing all of that was much more difficult and left to the individual countries and kingdoms. Some areas were more successful than others.
As dusk settled, we moved further inland and started a fire. Charles kindled one the old-fashioned way, insisting that I not use magic for at least twenty-four hours—if not for my health, then for his. He was obviously shaken that he’d nearly lost me.
The dragons were quiet. There was no exchange of gratitude; we each saved each other’s lives. But I did notice how they formed a protective half circle on either side of us while Charles and I rested by the fire. I was so exhausted that sleep came easily.
The next morning when we woke, both dragons were gone.
Charles stretched. “I think the last time I slept on the ground was twenty years ago. It’s a lot easier as a twenty-five-year-old than a forty-five-year-old.” Although he was complaining, his voice sounded more amused than irritated.
“Yes. I think a bath and a hearty meal are in order.”
“I can accompany you. On both accounts.” He winked at me.
Charles brushed dirt off his clothes. “I hope the dragons are just getting food and haven’t abandoned us and our plan altogether.”
“They’ll be back. We established trust.”
“In the future, I’d much prefer you make friends with creatures who don’t require near-death experiences to garner trust.”
I smiled at the way he was able to make light of something that had nearly scared him to death.
“I’m sure you’d be equally untrusting of a species if they hunted humans to near extinction.”
“Indeed.”
At his somber tone, I regretted my words. Of course Charles knew the dragons’ fear of us—he’d rescued Indigo. Life for me had been so hard for so long. No playful banter. No comic relief. I needed to train myself on how to enjoy life again. Charles was the man to help me do that.
By the time we’d eaten, the dragons had returned.
“I think I’ll never cease to be amazed by their beauty,” Charles said.
“They are spectacular. But I prefer to see them from this angle rather than riding on their backs.”
“I think dragon flying is my new preferred method of transportation, though I’d never attempt to do it without you to communicate for me.”
Norak walked closer, and I felt the way the earth rumbled beneath his giant feet.
“I accept your offer, sorceress. We will have your protection on this continent, and in exchange, you may leave your Fire Stone with us for safekeeping. What more needs to be done to conclude our arrangement?”
I gave a slight bow. “Give me three days to complete the spell. Meanwhile, you should spread word of this refuge to all of your kind. Once the spell is cast, all dragons may enter, but none will leave—not until the spell is broken when the champion touches the Fire Stone and releases the magic.”
I held my breath. It was a risky gamble to tell dragons I was confining them to the reservation and worse, to only get permission from one and apply that consent to all. But it was the only way I knew to preserve the safety of dragons, mankind, and the stone.
A cold lump formed in my throat. I recalled the time I’d told the king, my husband, of my visions and how I thought I could end the Hundred Year War by creating a vessel to absorb evil.
“Isn’t it arrogance to so boldly think you can control the future?” he’d asked me angrily.
What was he trying to do with treaties but control the future? Mine was a magical, more powerful means. Surely I had been given these dreams for a reason. “Isn’t it cowardice not to try?” I’d shot back.
The white dragon shifted his weight before me. “I will find others. I suspect not all, but many will come.” He pushed off his powerful hind legs and wind whipped our faces as he pumped his massive wings to take off into the sky.
“Is this the end of our acquaintance then?” Indigo asked.
Did I detect sadness in the dragon’s voice?
I looked at Charles and back at the dragon. “It doesn’t have to be. Charles certainly enjoys your company, and I believe you gave him the thrill of his life riding on the back of a dragon. If you were to offer that to him and permission to return to your land, I would bring him back here to see you.”
If it were possible, I believe the dragon smiled. “I extend my offer for him to return for the occasional ride. I enjoy your company. Don’t assume other dragons will extend the same camaraderie. When you return, find me and me alone. Dragons understand the boundaries of land and personal belongings.”
“So as long as you tell other dragons that Charles belongs to you, he’ll be safe?” I asked, concealing my amusement.
“Yes, I will keep him safe. And you. Now, I’m off to hunt again.” He turned and ran off into the distance, his thundering legs trampling grass and saplings beneath them.
“You’re going to fill me in on all those conversations?” Charles asked.
I turned toward him and looped one arm around his waist. “We have ourselves an agreement with Norak. As for Indigo, he’d like you to come back and visit and occasionally ride him, with the understanding that you will be referred to as his property so that other dragons leave you alone.”
Charles set his hands on my hips with a boyish grin. “I’m a dragon’s pet, am I?”
“Far better a pet than another one’s meal.”
“So we’ll come back and visit?” His eyes twinkled in anticipation.
“Yes, but for now we have a spell to cast.”
The supplies alone for the spell took a day to gather. We decided upon a ratio of dragon scales and sulfur granules based on the estimated square kilometer size of Wallos. The sulfur came from my own stores—previously collected from geysers on Kovia. Charles and I gathered scales from the nesting places of Norak and Indigo where they’d shed on the ground.
Back on Wallos, I created an earthen pedestal for the Fire Stone and infused the dirt with rosemary before hardening it to brick with magic heat. With Indigo’s help, we deposited twelve scales at twelve different locations on the perimeter of the continent. We encircled each pile of scales with a ring of sulfur. Next, I created a circle of talc powder around the pedestal to make it the focal point.
Some mixture of excitement and exhaustion
coursed through me. Charles and I had been working tirelessly. I’d rushed to accomplish the feat while the dragons were agreeable. Once this spell was cast, Charles and I would be at liberty to enjoy our matrimony—and even put it in writing.
Dusk had settled by the time all components were assembled and in position for the spell. We had an audience of dragons watching us.
I lifted my hands into the air, my purple gown rustling in the breeze. Magic fire burned from my palms as I stood before the Fire Stone inside the circle of talc.
“Send the protection of the sun,
With hope and love this spell’s begun.”
Tentacles of magic stretched up from the pedestal. Like twelve endless ribbons, they ascended high into the sky. Dragons were flying creatures so I needed to give them soaring heights within their invisibly caged continent.
“We find a way to preserve life,
We create a haven free of strife.
Raise the powers of the moons,
Shield dragons from human dooms.”
The magic burst across the sky, white-hot streaks like comets leaving an endless trail, cutting through the navy twilight, spreading in every direction and arcing down toward the horizon.
With consent this pact is congealed,
With resolve this spell is sealed.
Light flared bright—blues, pinks, reds, and oranges—before fading all together and leaving us beneath a vast starry sky and a land quieted in awe.
I lowered my arms, stepped over to Charles, and hugged him. “It’s done,” I whispered.
I glimpsed a vision. A red-cloaked champion with pale skin and piercing blue eyes steps forward and takes the Fire Stone. Malakai is by her side.
And my role was complete. Years of toil and spells and worry and migraines were all behind me. I was free to enjoy my life. And while I missed my sons dearly, their lives would be richer and fuller than anything they might have had in their brief time at my castle before invaders took us all, had I not taken magical steps of intervention.
“I’m free,” I told Charles.
He pulled away, looked me in the eyes, and wiped a tear off my cheek. “You’re wonderful.”
“I’m yours.”
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The Avant Champion: Rising>>>
AC Rising Sample
The Avant Champion: Rising
Book 1
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Every thousand years, Malos rises to conquer the world. In the year 7077, the seventh Avant Champion must be summoned to stop Malos. A young woman discovers she is the key to unlocking the Avant Champion, but she must first face a perilous quest across the continent to collect artifacts to summon the Avant Champion. Will she succeed or will evil plague the world?
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Chapter 1 Sample
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All things considered, it was a good day to die. The warm sand pressed against my hands and knees, and the roaring of high tide resounded on the distant rocks below the cliff. The setting sun cast elongated shadows, like weary, stretching tendrils before the slumber of night. Sea salt and wood smoke scents floated through the air. I looked at the burning embers near me—a dying fire. Blackened, burnt wood intermixed with gray ash sprinkled with fading amber light.
I didn’t want to die, but I could see no other option. My purpose was to die—on this day, at this moment, by the hand of Evil.
18 Days Earlier
* * *
I should have been grateful, really. I was grateful to have a job, even if it wasn’t ideal. Knowing that there were people without jobs meant I should really appreciate having one. And I should appreciate my brother, Paul, for getting me the job. This was an advantage to being the younger sister of the finance minister of Queen Rebekah of Marrington. One of the disadvantages was always being reminded of how grateful I should be, which Paul managed to do whenever we crossed paths since I started my new job.
After gazing across the great ballroom to the dining hall, I looked back down at the schematics in my hand. It appeared that all of the busts were properly arranged, as were the floral decorations. I pulled a handkerchief out of my skirt pocket and brushed off a spot of dust from the Queen’s counsel’s balding bronze head.
Leaning over to one side, I breathed deeply the sweet scent of pink roses set against a background of gold and silver draperies. I crossed the polished floor to the dining hall, thinking of that sweet smell and what I would give for a pastry right now just as sweet.
Having not eaten since breakfast with all the preparative work for the ball, I could already imagine vast trays of mouthwatering food splayed across the buffet table. The dining hall was grandiose, with five enormous windows, a balcony, and five glimmering chandeliers. It would soon be filled with hundreds of people for the night’s annual celebration of V-Day.
Reaching the Queen’s vacant chair, I dusted the rich mahogany one last time and made sure that Her Majesty’s water glass was located within arm’s reach of her seat. Gingerly, I touched the plush maroon cushion. How strange and frightening would it be to sit before hundreds of people as a leader, a ruler, a queen?
“Right everyone. Spit spot, best behavior,” Leonard called out to the crowd of servants. We gathered around him for one last meeting before the grand event. He was a lean man with a thin, crooked nose and sagging cheeks that dangled below his jawline like a bulldog.
Marcy leaned toward me whispering, “It’s the same pep-talk nonsense before the ball every year. ‘Spit spot. Best behavior everyone.’” She smacked on a piece of licorice and rolled her eyes. “He’s completely elliptical.” Loose strands of brown hair had escaped the two tight knots drawn behind her ears.
I suppressed a grin at her insult.
Tuning out Leonard’s droning voice, I looked around at the bulging room. It was filled with tidy, pressed black-and-gray uniforms standing at attention. The waitstaff was in white, the greeting staff in navy blue, and the Queen’s assistants in black. Since I had only been there a few months, I scarcely knew a dozen servants. Nevertheless, a common theme seemed to prevail among them: they all performed to the best of their ability in hopes of some recognition and promotion. In doing so, they created a perpetually priggish, competitive environment.
Marcy was different though—more like me. This was a temporary job to get us by until other opportunities rose. Mine was the opportunity to have money to finish my studies at the University. We had no intention of a lifetime commitment of servitude to Her Majesty, however remarkable she may be.
After the servant assembly, we had a half-hour break to eat and ready ourselves for the onslaught of hungry, thirsty guests eager to revel at court with the Queen.
Once the festivities began, we alternated hour after hour, kneeling or standing at Her Majesty’s side. It was such a relief when she asked for something, a glass of water, a sniff of potpourri, a chocolate truffle, so that I might move just a little. Aside from that, she did not dance, nor eat, nor converse, nor interact except to occasionally nod or wave when it seemed appropriate. Her face was covered in thick white makeup—a mask—beneath which her expression was stoic, passively interested or disinterested in the room; it was hard to tell.
In all my life, I had never been to such a party. Certainly, I never imagined getting a front seat to such extravagance. The smell of food in the distance was at once delightful and torturous. There were twelve geese, adorned with celery and carrots and baked to a golden brown, and five pigs bathed inside and out in a cilantro, garlic, and ginger paste, roasted to a delicate crisp exterior and moist, meaty interior. Silver bowls filled with turnips simmered in lard decorated the table accompanied by an array of fresh vegetables and cheeses. The last table was filled with the most delectable of all—truffles made from fine imported chocolate, mouthwatering candied pecans, and delectable fudge squares. It was a magnificent feast for a magnificent celebration.
The dancing patrons
wore lavish dresses or pressed petticoats with shined shoes that sparkled like glass. Their movements were fluid and flawless, a choreographed masterpiece. I possessed no such talent for dance, but then no such activity in my life called for it. I didn’t attend balls, nor seek courtship with gentlemen who would be wooed by such a talent. It seemed frivolous, and yet more appealing than my current station.
Looking down gratefully at the white satin pillow I had to kneel upon, I distracted myself with a piece of lint on my black dress. As magnificent as everything truly was, I was no more than a speck of lint on the evening’s activities.
The long festivities were drawing near to an end, and I welcomed the thought of closing my eyes while horizontally positioned on my cool linens. After a near twenty hours without sleep, I could have slept on the ballroom floor contentedly, but my mattress in the basement with the other assistants beckoned me.
“You are Paul’s sister, Abigail, are you not?”
It took a moment for me to realize that the Queen was addressing me. She had hardly spoken a word all night.
“Yes, mum,” I mustered.
I had watched Paul in and out of the dining room all night, his tall, lean build adorned in a black suit with burgundy trim. He conversed with various dignitaries and bourgeoisie, but was far too engrossed in business to dance or really enjoy the evening. He must have walked past the table of food a dozen times and not once stopped to eat. It was so like him to turn a celebration event into a business affair. We were terribly unalike. I coveted the dancers, and he didn’t even notice them.
I looked up from my subservient position at the Queen’s imposing figure and stern expression. The pale makeup crinkled slightly at the wrinkles around her gray eyes.
