Dragon Singer

by Lynn Landes

  “Whatever the case may be, the truth is in her dungeons. If she gets her hands on this untrained child, we are all in danger.” King Riordan implores him, “Syrran if the Dragon Singer has been held captive all this time, you are her only hope for freedom. Will you help us?” he asks.

  “Of course,” Syrran gives a quick nod. “No child, magic or no’ should be in Micah’s hands.” He is not a typical Drow and they saved his sister from a fate worse than death. She is still healing from her imprisonment to the dark queen. “I will honor my debt to you.”

  King Riordan claps his hands, “Excellent, Nyx will show you where to go.”

  Chapter 3

  Two hours later Syrran is standing in the woods behind the child’s house and starting to question the sanity of this plan.

  Nyx watches him and frowns. “Can you see it? She is powerful, Syrran. Watch.” Using her magic she touches his forehead and instantly Syrran is drawn into the past. He is watching her play while the grandfather sips his tea. To his Drow eyes, she doesn’t look special. Humans are void. Void of life, void of magic, and void of power, at least that is what most of his people believe.

  He knows better. His sister, Nienna was born to a human mother. Though they shared the same father, they look nothing alike. She lacked the dark or silver skin of the Drow people, but had the empathic abilities and elven ears of her race and her ice blue eyes could never pass for human. Her mother had no choice but to give her to their father. Nienna was raised by his family and subjected by his Drow mother to cruel barbarity every bit as vile as the treatment all slaves received. The more servant’s one owns, the more powerful the family. A child’s giggle pulls him from his memories.

  Brynley is busy talking to her beast and playing in the dirt when he feels it the first time. The pull of her magic. His eyes widen in surprise and before he can move she has regrown a section of the garden. Dead buds bloom with color. A magical wind blows through the shriveled, brittle, remains of a well-loved garden as she sings it back to life. The image fades and Nyx sits on the ground, exhausted by the effort of sharing the past.

  Syrran is stunned. He knows they all believe this child to be special, but until this moment he was not convinced. Her power is tangible and if he could feel it, so will others.

  Her innocent giggle dances on the breeze and he curses inwardly. He can’t let them capture her. Already the stain of evil is moving through the woods towards them. “Go quickly, Nyx. They come for her.” Nyx nods and disappears. With a whisper, he sinks into the soil, without a trace of his passage, to await the perfect moment.

  “We’re going on a trip. You go pack a bag while I pack mine.” Brynley runs to do as he asks. Edward trembles as he goes to the desk to retrieve the documents he gathered earlier. Passport and cash were prepared already. Lucky for him she has the correct travel documents because of her fathers’ military travels. In his top drawer of his dresser, he keeps a shoe box full of cash. Edward unloads it, not knowing how much they will need to travel. He hobbles back to the living room and groans at the pain beginning in his old abused body.

  A sound in the back has him rushing into the yard. “I can fix it. Then we won’t have to leave.” Brynley cries as she sings and the garden shrivels, returning to its faded glory.

  Edward drops to his knees in astonishment. When she turns and sees him on the grass, her eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry, Papa. I won’t do it again!” She runs to him and he catches her in a hug.

  “Hush now, Brynley. Everythin’ is going to be okay.”

  “But Papa, I…I… Mama said not to do it anymore. The bad ones find us when I sing,” she cries out, wringing her dress in her hand.

  Edward stands up just as a cloud passes overhead. “Brynley, you will have to tell me everything, but not now.” He starts to walk back to the house with her. “We must go now, child.”

  Farley begins to growl low in his throat and the fur on his back stands up. They only make it two steps when the clouds begin to gather blocking out the sun overhead. Farley starts barking ferociously and Brynley starts to sob.

  “Not again, Papa. The bad ones are coming.” Edward snatches the child up in his arms and begins to run as fast as his old legs can carry him towards the house. If he can just get to his truck…

  A blow to his legs sends him tumbling to the ground and Brynley screams out. He manages to gather her close to protect her from the impact, but his leg is twisted in the fall. Pain radiates and he rolls to face his attackers.

  They step from the woods, four dark elves. Lured by the magic, they have come to claim this prize. Tall, slender and powerful beings with silver white hair and pale skin glare at the humans, but Brynley knows it is only a mask they wear to hide the ugliness inside.

  “Papa, don’t look at them. They’re bad!”

  Edward tries to back away only to have Farley leap at the attackers. Brynley screams as Farley is thrown into the chairs on the patio, he yelps in pain and tries to get up, but his back leg is broken. He drags it behind him in an attempt to get to his master.

  “Are you the source of the magic we felt?” One of the elves demands. Brynley hugs her grandfather’s neck and he trembles with rage.

  “You are not welcome here, get out of my yard!” he yells clutching her to his chest.

  “Take her and kill the old man!” The leader demands with no emotion. Brynley watches with tears rolling down her cheeks and she sings, terrified she will lose her grandfather as she did her mother. This song is not a song of life, but a cry for help. She imagines in her mind a protector, something strong enough to stop the bad ones. When she opens her blue eyes, they are no longer human.

  This is the moment Syrran has been waiting for. He hears the call for help from her heart and he does not hesitate. Quickly reading the image from her mind, he creates the protector she needs. When her eyes open they are no longer the eyes of a child, but of a snake. Her hands rise up and the ground before them explodes with a massive serpent. A flick of his enormous tail and he smashes two of the enemy into the ground, leaving a bloody stain around the broken bodies. The two remaining elves leap through the air at the coiling snake with their drawn swords gleaming.

  Grandpa scrambles to get up ignoring the pain in his body while grasping Brynley to his chest. She has become oddly quiet and wraps her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. Farley follows, dragging his leg behind him and whining. They make it inside the house and he puts Brynley down, “Go on luv and hide yourself.” She runs to the corner of the living room behind the couch.

  “Trust me, Angel. Everythin’ is going to be okay.” Edward limps to the fireplace and lifts his family sword that has passed down from generations of MacLaren soldiers. Testing the weight of the weapon in his hand he grins and looks at the tartan and wonders at the colors so bold and beautiful before him. With a quick jerk, he rips it from the wall and wraps the child in it.

  Edward feels the pressure on the air as the evil shifts towards them. Farley growls low and crawls over to Brynley to place his body between her and the enemy. “Gud’ dog,” Edward says in a thick Scottish brogue.

  One elf shimmers to form and attempts to smile. “Old man if this is how you wish to die, then I’m happy to oblige you.” His face cracks and eyes flash red as his true demonic form flashes through. He swings his blackened blood stained swords towards the old man just as Edward lunges forward.

  Edward lifts his sword and the MacLaren war cry fills his mind. The sword shakes from the strain of lifting it, but he knows something the elf does not. Shoving the blade straight into its throat, all movement stops for a moment. “It’s iron ye Dobber!” The two cursed swords fall to the ground as the demonic elf explodes in a shower of gray dust.

  Outside the snake has finished killing the last dark elf with its thick coils, dropping the smashed body to the bloody grass. It peaks through the window pane with a large golden eye. Brynley raises her tear stained face and nods a thanks to the magical creature.
The snake shifts to mist and disappears on the wind, no longer needed. Brynley runs into her Grandfather’s waiting arms. “You did it Papa!”

  “Aye, this sword is made of pure iron and those creatures are not immune to it. We have to be going now, lass. If we stay more will come. Are you ready then?” He asks, setting her on her feet. Brynley wipes her face with her sleeve and nods her head yes.

  “I’ll help Farley.” She runs to check on the dog who is laying on his side and whining in pain.

  “That’s my girl, just let me grab our bag,” he limps over to his bag and grabs it and when he turns around he is once again stunned by her abilities.

  Brynley is on the floor, whispering to Farley and running her hands over his leg. The air sparkles around her and within minutes he jumps up and runs to meet Edward.

  “Brynley, what did you do?”

  Farley paces to the back door and growls in his throat.

  “Papa, I just fixed his leg. Did I do something wrong?” Brynley asks quietly.

  “No sweets, let’s just go. No more magic.” He helps her into the truck, tucking his family tartan over her legs and stashed his sword under the seat within easy reach.

  “Where will we go, Papa?” Brynley asks as they drive out of town.

  “We’re going to Scotland. My sister is waiting for us. Try to sleep, we’ve a two and a half hour drive to the airport.” She snuggles into her car seat with her pink blanket in one hand and the tartan wrapped around her. Edward tries to stop his hands from shaking as he starts the truck.

  Syrran releases the serpents form and exhaustion beats at him. Fighting as a being that large is draining. Back to his true body, he hears the truck roar to life in front of the house. ‘Good, the old man is leaving and taking the child with him,’ he thinks looking around cautiously.

  When the next wave of evil approaches, he draws on the rising moon to reinforce his power and turns to face them. An idea hits him and he shifts to the child’s form in a shimmer. He waits for the demons at the edge of the tree line surrounding the yard. When they get closer, he runs towards the house screaming for help. He will hold this mirage as long as he can, decoying the black-hearted demons away from their true quarry. Hopefully, this will buy them enough time to make their escape.

  The demons drag the weeping child back to their master’s fortress and place her in a cage as ordered.

  Micah stalks around the cage sniffing and sneering at the little girl, cowering with her hands over her face.

  “You are pathetic, human. Stop sniveling and face me before I cut something off,” Micah sneers.

  Brynley drops her hands and when she looks up, Micah is greeted with the ember eyes of a Drow. Syrran shifts in relief, releasing the image of the child and stares into the eyes of insanity.

  “Syrran!” Her scream of rage causes him to smile, but not for long. Her tail lashes out with a jolt of power and he falls into agonized darkness.

  Chapter 4

  For a normal elf, the oblivion of this cell would be torture, but a Drow is at home in the deep darkness.

  “Syrran, I am disappointed in you. How could a Drow warrior with your power…” Micah trails a black claw over his silver skin and a ribbon of red erupts beneath her fingernail. “Oops, let me clean that up.” Her forked tongue laps at his blood.

  Dangling from the ceiling by chained arms, his naked body tenses pulling and straining against the iron chains holding him just above the floor below.

  When she lifts her face to look at him, he is startled. Her normally black soulless eyes are rimmed in red and she bares a set of sharpened fangs. Syrran watches her lick her lips clean of his blood and his stomach drops.

  The sound of her wicked laughter infuriates him, “Micah, release me,” he demands. “I’m not your plaything!”

  “No,” she screeches at him, “you are a powerful warrior, which is why I chose you,” she whirls away from him and her red demonic tail slices his face. “It was one, human, child!”

  Syrran hisses in pain and struggles against the iron chains as he curses his Elven blood. He is a dark elf, trained for six hundred years and battle hardened, but he is nonetheless vulnerable to iron.

  Micah stares at him and grins baring her teeth, “Perhaps you could still be of use to me, Syrran. I will give you a chance to redeem yourself.” She moves closer to him saying softly, “I have a secret,” she giggles.

  Syrran struggles against the chains, hissing out in frustration.

  “I shouldn’t tell you…” she spins away and paces, clearly frustrated.

  “The rumors are true, then? You have her, don’t you?” Syrran prods.

  Micah spins and steps closer to him. “I knew I couldn’t keep it a secret forever, two hundred years is a long time.” Micah lifts her tail and drags it slowly down his bare chest. “Frankly, I am surprised they didn’t guess it sooner, but they are only elves. I’ve spent centuries trying to get her to sing for me, but she is…stubborn. Maybe if another elf asked her…” she hints.

  “You’re telling me that you have the Dragon Singer and you want me to get her to sing you a dragon?” Syrran laughs low stopping only to snarl out his answer. “Never, Micah.” She sighs and shrugs her shoulders.

  “No worries, lover, I will find this child and she will sing to me a horribly wondrous creation. One who will never betray me and I will finally lay claim to the human world. All the world will tremble at the sound of my name.” Without warning, Micah leaps in the air and wraps her arms, legs, and tail around his beautiful muscular body. She sinks her sharp teeth into his shoulder and Syrran screams.

  Micah drains him till he begins to wither, his silver skin turns sallow and his breathing grows weak. The poison from her fangs takes hold of his mind and she purrs while grinding her body against his. Her claws pierce his skin and her nipples harden. Micah floods his mind with dark fantasies.

  “Yes. If you aren’t going to be my weapon then you will be my tool!”

  “My queen, we found her!” a guard calls from the caverns outside of his cell, interrupting her play time.

  Micah slides off his limp, weak body and walks away, glowing with excitement. “We will finish this later, Syrran.” His head falls weakly to his chest.

  Lilliana hears the tortured screams from the prisoners around her and covers her ears. Shame fills her soul when she thinks that the screams mean it isn’t her turn, this time. Countless days and nights in this wretched darkness is taking a toll and time is running out. Multiple times she was tempted to take her own life to end the misery, but hope will not let go of her soul. It burns like an ember deep inside the earth, promising that she is not forgotten. So she hides, silencing her voice and prays for a miracle.

  After years of torture, Lilliana lost track of time. Her only saving grace was her magic and it was fading. Tucked into a damp corner of her cell, she ignores the demonic sounds and replaces the surroundings with images of her favorite place. As a Dragon Singer, she had all the power of an ancient elf, but Micah had siphoned every ounce of power she could from her and placed her in a cell warded with dark magic to prevent its regeneration. Without the sun and imprisoned as she was, her magic regenerated slowly until finally stopping. Lilliana managed to keep a little suppressed, where it could not be detected over the years. Using the last of her magic she closes her eyes.

  Her soul is withering along with her body and it must be fed just like her physical form. The forest comes to life and Lilliana smells the lush green gardens of home. Joy erupts and she walks amongst the vegetation soaking up the sun and savoring the feel of the moist moss beneath her feet. Before long she comes to a river. Lilliana follows it to a waterfall and laughs. An unbidden melody rises up in her heart and she forces it back. Oh, how she longs to sing, but for now the freedom of this moment will have to be enough.

  Lilliana’s instinct is to help the soul in the cell next to her. His screams were horrific. Without another thought she shares her vision, it will be her last gift on this earth
. When he appears before her, she is stunned to see a Drow warrior. His ember eyes stare into her soul and her mouth goes dry. Lilliana gasps and backs away from him. Fear has her thinking of running but something in his eyes holds her still.

  His emaciated body is riddled with scars and his face has a deep cut. Long white blonde hair hangs around his shoulders and he stumbles falling to his knees. The sound of his weakened heart and respiration calls to her and instantly all fear is forgotten as Lilliana rushes towards him. Kneeling with an arm around his shoulders, she offers him a cup of honey mead to heal his wounds.

  “Here, this will help,” she murmurs. Too weak to hold the cup she lifts it to his lips and he drinks greedily. Liquid nectar rushes through his body healing his wounds, his heart finds its normal rhythm and the pain fades a bit. Lilliana notices the bite wound on his neck and closes her eyes against the image that presents. Flashes of teeth, ripping, tearing at her body and she trembles, pushing back the memories.

  “Who are you?” he demands in a husky voice, suspicious of this new vision.

  “Lilliana.” She clothes him for her sake and he sighs as the pain begins to fade. Reading his relief Lilliana helps him sit up on his own and offers him another cup which he gladly accepts. Syrran stands and stretches as his full strength returns to him. Warily she stares at him as his muscular body fills out, returning to its true form. He radiates strength and masculinity.

  “I owe you a debt, Lilliana. Are you the pet our keeper speaks of?” He offers her a hand and watches as she reaches out a trembling hand to his. Gently, he pulls her to her feet.

  The moment her hand touches his, the vision changes. Vibrant scents explodes in the forest and the grass feels softer and the waterfall roars to life. A gentle wind blows her hair, pushing her scent towards him. It embraces him and calls to his soul.

  Lilliana attempts to pull her hand away, but her grip is locked in the steel vice of his. Syrran jerks her towards him, certain this is another game Micah is playing. One strong hand wraps around her frail throat lifting her into the air and her blue eyes widen with horror.