"I wish to thank you all for being here today," began the old Gypsy. "For some of you, this is a dream come true. For others, it is unexpected and confusing. We are here to alleviate any fears and answer any questions you may have. It has been a long road; more than three hundred years has brought us to this point, but today, we make history. And now, without further ado, we will reconvene for the first meeting of the new Coalition of Man and Beast. Ychthorn, if you would."
Graol stepped off the dais and took his seat on the floor as the great red dragon stood up at the end of the table.
"Thank you, Graol. Before we begin official business, I would like to share with you the story of my father, Sigurd, King of Dragons..."
Epilogue
A shadow fell across the brown wagon settled on the outskirts of the thriving Gypsy town, Legh, in a small encampment commonly known as Binth. The guards around the clearing watched diligently for movement in the dark trees, but ignored the movements of those within the secure camp. The young woman, dressed in a dark cloak, her hood pulled up to cover her brown hair and guard her face, glanced around before placing a small foot on the wagon wheel. Hoisting herself up, she peered into the windows, observing the happenings inside.
A plump, pig-faced lady sat on a padded stool near a small table, inhaling plates of food that had been placed before her minutes before. Her mousy brown hair hung in ragged braids around her face and she looked like she had not washed for days. The woman at the window knew that the former queen's appearance was not due to the neglect of the Gypsies. Those entrusted with Slyvania's care were more than diligent in their duties and gave her far more leeway and concern than most others in the land of Layr would have. No, Slyvania's appearance was due to her own negligence and lack of concern. Rumors circulated that she rarely bathed, slept more than a lazy cat, and refused any opportunity for exercise or enjoyment of the woods around her. She preferred to laze away her days in the confines of the small wagon, devouring more food in one meal than three grown men could possibly eat in an entire day, rarely even cracking open so much as a picture book.
The young woman in the dark cloak turned up her nose at the sow inside and stepped off the wagon wheel, crouching in the shadows the wagon offered. She settled down, waiting patiently for the lights in the camp to dim and for Slyvania's guards to begin their nightly game of cards. Time passes slowly when impatience weighs heavily and the young woman fidgeted quietly with the blade strapped to her boot. Finally, the lights in the wagon went out, the door slammed shut, and she could hear the voices of the guards coming softly from the front steps.
Cautiously, she pulled herself up on the wheel again and peered inside. All was dark. The moon shone through the thin curtains to provide just enough light for her to see the queen stretching herself out on the cot at the back of the wagon. In mere moments, she heard deep, rattling snores drifting from the bed and rolled her eyes in disgust. Glancing around to be sure she had not been noticed, the young woman pulled herself up into the window, resting on the edge momentarily before slipping inside.
She waited a minute to see if the queen stirred, but the snores continued. Checking the door, she confirmed that the guards were still at their game and moved toward the bed. She slipped the blade from its sheath on her calf and toyed with it for a few minutes, watching the queen with a snarl growing on her face. The snores grew loud in her ears and threatened to take her sanity. She knelt beside the bed and swiftly placed her hand heavily over the queen's mouth. The chubby woman tried to struggle against the strong grip, but stilled quickly as she felt the cool steel of the blade against her pale, wrinkled throat.
"Make even the smallest sound, and you will bleed like a stuck pig." The words came roughly, tainted by pure hatred. The queen nodded as well as she could, but the woman did not remove the blade. Tears began streaming from the queen's eyes as she looked into the face of her attacker—hard as steel, numbed by death and suffering. Loss and heartache sat heavily behind the fierce, determined facade.
"You killed him."
Slyvania tried to shake her head in denial, but the knife's edge forced her to stop. She tried to speak, to profess her innocence, but the hand that pressed to her mouth stilled her words.
"No, you did not do it yourself. Your hands are free from the stains the rest of us have to endure. No. You instead trained your minions to do your dirty work. Your soldiers, those poor deceived men, died for you... and killed for you. And for that, you will die too."
Slyvania's eyes grew wide with fear at the woman's bitter words and she tried to struggle against the powerful hands. She broke free of the grip on her face and opened her mouth to scream, but the biting steel stole the sound from her lips before it could escape. It was replaced with blood, her blood. Fluid streamed from her mouth and from the gaping hole in her neck, washing her sins away, washing away the hurts she had inflicted on those around her and those beneath her. The dying queen gazed at the young woman who stood over her, bloodied knife in hand, watching as life ebbed from already dull eyes.
"My name is Chelandra, leader of the Coalition of Man and Beast, protector of the son of Sigurd. You are Slyvania, the last ruler of a dead empire, the last slaver of a free race. Your death will not bring my love back, but you will no longer bring pain to this land. May you rot for eternity without peace."
Slyvania watched as the woman cleaned her blade on the bedsheets, then slipped back through the window into the dark. The dying queen tried once more to scream, but the words came out in a gurgle. She felt her strength leave her and fear took her heart as the growing blackness was replaced by a fiery, burning light.
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Did you enjoy Blood of the Dragon? Please share your opinion with others, then check out the sequel, Winds from the North!
The queen is dead. The dragons are finally free. But was the cost too high? While the Council of Man and Beast struggles to gain control over a land fractured by war, a young woman wages her own struggle against the ghosts of her past.
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Series by Samantha Warren
Blood of the Dragon – An Epic YA Fantasy
The Iron Locket – A Paranormal Romance
Massacre at Lonesome Ridge – A Zombie Western
Jane (The Vampire Assassin series) – An Urban Fantasy
Space Grease & Pixie Dust - A Sci-fi Steampunk Serial
The Alaesha Legacy – A YA Urban Fantasy
Zombie Juice (Coming Soon) – A NA Zombie Serial
About the Author
Samantha Warren is a speculative fiction author who spends her days immersed in dragons, spaceships, and vampires. She milks cows for fun, collects zombie gnomes, and dreams about the day she’ll meet Boba Fett. Her love is easily purchased with socks and her goal in life is to eat a Beef Wellington cooked by Gordon Ramsay.
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Twitter: @_SamanthaWarren
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Blood of the Dragon: An NA Epic Fantasy Page 24
