Dragon Guardian of Land

by Keira Blackwood

  Dragon Guardian of Land

  Alphas & Alchemy: Elemental Shifters Book One

  Keira Blackwood

  Eva Knight

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  A Taste of Midnight Wish

  Also by Keira Blackwood

  About the Author

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Keira Blackwood & Eva Knight

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any actual persons, places, or events is coincidental. All characters in this story are at least 18 years of age or older.

  The cover utilizes stock images licensed by the author. The model(s) depicted have no connection to this work or any other work by the author.

  Edited by Liza Street

  Chapter 1

  Astra

  Hot and heavy, the sun beat down overhead. It seemed to follow the tiny vessel, a harsh spotlight proclaiming that we didn’t belong. Besides my pride and joy—the Keepin’ it Reel—the sun was the only splash of contrast in miles of endless blue ocean.

  There was a time in my life where blue was my favorite color, when I’d spend hours wearing down the cerulean crayon until nothing but a nub remained. A stack of ocean pictures later, I’d ask my father for a new box, and he’d buy me one, a new set of twenty-four all to replace the one cerulean.

  Now my favorite color was a toss-up—green for cash, or gold for, well, gold. In addition to the bounties earned, there was nothing in the world quite like unearthing a long-forgotten treasure after months of searching. It was the thrill of a lifetime, one I chased over and over again.

  This expedition was both the same as all the rest and completely different.

  Crewmen laughed and chatted as they worked. My father stood at the bow of the ship, his arms resting on the rails. His journal was clutched in his hands, as it always was, for as long as I could remember.

  I stopped next to him and looked out to the gently rolling water. “Find any new answers in your notes?”

  “There’s nothing new to find.” He closed the tattered journal, holding his place with a finger, and turned to me.

  Salt and pepper scraggly hair coated his head and his jaw, and dark circles surrounded his eyes. He needed a razor, and some sleep.

  I laced my fingers together, leaned on the rail, and turned my gaze back to the ocean. “We could be on the water for a year and find nothing.”

  “I know.”

  “You hate the water.”

  I could feel his eyes on me. It wasn’t often our paths crossed, and not much had changed since I was a little girl. He was gone for months or years at a time first with the military, then later for his archaeological work for the Legacy Institute. The Keepin’ it Reel was my ship, but this mission was his—our first collaboration beyond stirring pots of macaroni and green beans side-by-side.

  “It’s only been a few weeks,” he said.

  “A few weeks on a wild goose chase.”

  His mouth flattened into a line and he crossed his arms. “You could have said no,” he said. “I could have found another ship.”

  I lifted my hands in defense. “Hey, if you’re sure there’s some magical rod out here somewhere, I’m game. I’m just worried about you.”

  “Don’t be.”

  I opened my mouth to press him, but movement caught my eye. I turned, and a green-faced blonde shoved between us. I wasn’t so fond of this shade of green.

  I gathered Polly’s wild locks at the base of her neck while she proceeded to expel the contents of her stomach overboard. It was the third time this morning.

  “Your friend hates the water more than me,” Dad snorted.

  Polly heaved a few more times, then wiped her mouth and smiled at Dad. “Are you kidding me? I love the water so hard. So fucking hard.”

  She waggled her brows. Dad’s brows dropped and his frown deepened.

  I laughed, not knowing what that was supposed to mean. I did know that Polly was the best diver there was. The seasickness was just a part of the Polly package. She was also hilarious and made life on the Keepin’ it Reel enjoyable, unlike the steady turnover of replaceable help. Most only lasted one tour, some less. Somewhere around the thirty-day mark, it was easily apparent who was built for this life and who wasn’t. Dad wasn’t.

  “Any sign of the magic stick?” Polly asked.

  Dad shook his head.

  “Nothing yet,” I said. “But there’s a lot of ocean to cover.”

  “Always is.” Polly nodded, then froze, her hands cupping her mouth. She ran back to the railing for puke spell number four.

  She was right, of course. The mission was on track, even if I didn’t understand the point of it.

  The Staff of Terra—that’s what Dad called the yet-to-be-discovered magic stick. He was convinced that there were enough records to support not only the existence of the staff, but a relative location for it. Beyond that, he hadn’t given much explanation about the mission, even to me.

  There was supposed to be an anomaly on the sonar, some kind of landmass that had long since disappeared from the surface. Sinking was the only explanation for a chunk of land not to be visible by satellite—that, or it didn’t exist.

  Either way, I was getting paid. If we found a staff where we were headed, whatever relic had started the rumors, the bounty would be sweet. And it was actually nice to spend some time with my dad for a change, too.

  “Have a little faith,” Dad said, moving to my other side, away from Polly.

  “Faith?”

  “In me.”

  “I do,” I said. “But it’d be easier to have faith in the mission if you gave me more to go on.”

  “The lost island is said to have been created by the Staff of Terra,” he said.

  I looked over his face, wondering how he could believe not only this legend, but in magic at all. Before this excursion, I’d never seen him believe in anything he hadn’t confirmed with his own two eyes. What was different this time?

  “Okay,” I said.

  It was his turn to look over my face and judge my expression. Seeming content with what he saw, he nodded. “I’m going inside.”

  “Sure.” I looked over to Polly, who was still half-hanging over the rails, then out to sea.

  Dark clouds moved across the sky, with them the motion of the water picked up. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the waves crashing against the bow of my ship. The salty spray from the water was cool on my skin. A storm was brewing.

  I headed for the helm at a brisk pace. The sky could turn from clear to black in a matter of minutes. In the throes of a storm, the ship’s survival depended on positioning, keeping the bow aimed into the waves. It was my job to see my crew through this, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  A loud sound shook my chest—the warning horn.

  Either s
ome idiot didn’t know what the horn was meant to be used for, or we were about to be in a hell of a lot more trouble.

  I ran, feet slipping on the deck as I went.

  The horn blew once more, before cutting short and leaving the ship in an eerie silence. There were no voices to be heard, no laughter, only the sloshing of the water against the ship and the howl of the strengthening wind.

  The sky darkened and the boat rocked, rising and falling over harsher and harsher waves. I opened the door to the captain’s cabin and found the wheel unmanned. My stand-in lay on the floor, unconscious.

  A man grabbed my hair and kicked the back of my legs, forcing me to my knees. I laced my fingers behind my head and sucked in a deep breath, holding tight to my sense of calm. Don’t fight and they’ll leave the crew unharmed.

  “Eyes down,” he growled.

  This wasn’t the first time the Keepin’ it Reel had been boarded by pirates. Only this time, we didn’t have any treasure to steal.

  Sounds of a scuffle carried outside the cabin’s door. I turned my head just enough to see what was happening. Two men with rifles dragged my father and Polly to the cabin. We were lined up on our knees. I was grateful that the two of them were unharmed, but there was no way to know about the rest of the crew.

  Polly would know exactly how to act, she’d know not to engage unless the situation turned, but my father might not. I glanced toward him, to tell him with a look not to fight.

  “I told you, eyes down.” The butt of a rifle bashed into the back of my head.

  I did as I was told, as the stab of sharp pain radiated out into a soreness down into my neck and shoulders. I told myself if Dad was going to make a move, he would have done it by now. Same went for the pirates. They could have executed us before we’d realized they were onboard. They hadn’t.

  The Keepin’ it Reel rose and fell, riding over massive waves. Thunder boomed, and a crack of lightning lit up the dark sky outside. The wheel spun, needing to be manned, or sooner or later we’d all be fucked.

  A set of smaller combat boots came through the door—a woman. She addressed the men standing over us. “Report.”

  “These three are in charge. The rest of the crew is secured below deck,” one of the men replied.

  That was good news. Really good news.

  “What about the maps?” the woman asked.

  “Missing.”

  I had no idea what maps they were looking for. Why did they believe the three of us were in charge?

  “Radio the rest of your men, start tearing this place apart,” the leader said.

  “Ma’am.”

  These were the most professional pirates I’d ever encountered. Besides the fact that they were robbing us at sea, they didn’t seem like pirates at all. More like mercenaries.

  The woman lifted my chin with her boot. She certainly looked like a soldier with her black braid, stiff posture and expression. She wore a crisp black uniform, as did the men beside her.

  “You are the captain.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes.”

  “You can save the life of your crew. Just give me the maps.” Her words were so matter-of-fact.

  I still didn’t know what she was talking about. Maps for this mission? We hadn’t found anything, and she didn’t seem the type to work for a museum either.

  “What maps?” I finally asked.

  “Give me everything you have on the Staff of Terra, or I kill…” She pointed her weapon at my dad, then at Polly, then back at my dad. A smile spread across her face. “This one.”

  My heart raced. “I don’t have anything useful. All the scans we’ve taken from the ocean floor are in that cabinet.”

  I nodded toward the cabinet behind the wheel.

  From the corner of my eye I could sense my father growing restless.

  If it came down to it, I knew Polly would strike the moment the pirate leader flipped off her safety, and not before. Dad was the wildcard.

  I touched his elbow, hoping the contact would convey my thoughts. Wait, please.

  One of the pirates came to the cabin doorway, holding a book—my dad’s journal.

  “I found—”

  His words cut short as Dad dove into him. Less than a second behind, Polly threw herself at the pirate leader. Everything was happening so fast, too fast. One of the pirates grabbed my arm before I could take a single step.

  The world twisted and turned, the floor beneath our feet flipping up overhead. Wood creaked and howled, and the windows shattered. The boat capsized in the throes of the storm, tumbling pirate and crew alike. I slid across the floor, searching for something to hold on to.

  The floor snapped, the hull breaking in two, and water rushed into the cabin.

  My body twisted, pulled by the waves as the ship ripped apart.

  Everything swirled, sucked down into a great whirlpool that had appeared from nowhere. I struggled to swim upward and away, watching my entire world fall to pieces around me. A foot hit my back, someone kicking me down under the surface of the water. My arms and legs grew weak as I tried to fight the current. All I could hear was my heart thumping in my ears as my vision went black.

  Chapter 2

  Celedon

  “It’s spreading, my lord.” Thorn, Warrior of the Wolf Tribe, prodded the rot-speckled vine with the edge of his stick.

  I hated when he called me that. I hated when anyone called me lord. But that was the way of this world, the way it had been as long as I could remember.

  Thorn was the latest alpha of his village, young to claim the title compared to his predecessors. This was perhaps our first interaction beyond his ascension ceremony, though I could not be certain.

  He was large compared to most, with light brown hair, and the kind of confidence that only those who had not yet tasted failure possessed. Time and experience would chisel away at him, as it did us all.

  Like the warriors who had come before him, Thorn served me as liaison to the people for as long as he could hold his position. Given his ambition and physical fortitude, he would likely retain his alpha status for a few decades.

  “Call me Celedon,” I insisted.

  “As you wish, my Lord Celedon.” The bright-eyed wolf shifter smiled at me.

  The issue wasn’t worth pressing. Further conversation required my task to take longer than was necessary. Thorn was right. The blight had remained dormant for the entirety of my watch, two hundred seventy-three years since my brothers and I ascended to guardians of the island.

  It had never reached so far south.

  “What do we do?” Thorn’s smile faded and he poked the leaf again.

  I had no idea.

  “Collect samples,” I said. “But do not touch the affected foliage. Destroy any tools that come in contact with the leaves as soon as you’ve finished.”

  “As you say. What should my men do with the samples when we’re done?”

  “Leave them here,” I said. No one but my brothers knew where to find me, which was exactly how I intended to keep it.

  Thorn offered a curt nod in response. Good, our discourse was complete.

  I looked up through the branches that forged the forest’s canopy to the cloudless blue sky. The leaves were still green.

  How much of the island had the blight touched? How greatly had I failed in my duties as Guardian of Land?

  Soil, mountains, and the vegetation that fed every living creature on the island—it was my duty to watch over the earth and its bounty. My brothers and I were each gifted both boon and burden upon entry to this world. Ruarc was Guardian of Water, charged with protecting the rivers and fauna. Rhys was Guardian of Fire, whose tasks and life were shrouded in secret. And Kaelestis was Guardian of Sky, who maintained the island’s wards.

  Before his death, our father had given us each the tools we needed to perform our duties on the island that he himself had once created. Each guardian was gifted a warrior, alpha of his village and of his race on the island. The warrior was t
he ambassador for his guardian, and thus gifted a trickle of the well of his guardian’s power. For Thorn, this meant the power to keep his people fed. No garden was richer and more fertile than that of Lycaon, the wolf village.

  I could feel Thorn’s gaze. He was still watching me, though our business was long concluded. I walked to the edge of the tree line and reached to the dragon half of my dual nature. Cast in a white halo of light, my body transformed.

  Scales rippled across my skin and wings burst forth from my shoulders. The transformation was as sweet as solitude. It was freedom. Thorn appeared but a blade of grass as my long, dragon neck reached up over the trees. I spread my wings and pushed off from the ground.

  Wind whipped against my face as I ascended up into the endless blue above. Soaring, I surveyed my home. The island was an entity of its own, magically hidden away from the rest of the world. Mountainous landscape peaked at the center, a dormant volcano. Around the mountains were lowlands, forests, desert, and shore. All was mine to protect. And I was failing.

  The blight had always been contained to the north. Now small clusters of the disease sprung up all over the island, appearing to have come from nowhere. I could sense them, feel the darkness in the soil deep within my bones.

  Focusing on a location where I had not previously noticed traces of blight, I dove down to the sandy earth. Desert spread out in every direction, nothing but shifting sands and dry air. After returning to human form, I lowered my ear to the ground.

  The sand was searing hot on my hands and knees, but that was as it was meant to be. What had brought me here was the unnatural, the hurt and sickness. I listened.