Into a Dragon's Soul: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Chronicles of the Four Book 3)

by Marissa Farrar

  “It’s still several hours until nightfall. The dragon can cover plenty of distance in that time.”

  Despite her words, she tried to ignore the niggling feeling that he might be right. There appeared to be nothing but grasslands as far as the eye could see. She felt as though she was in a desert of sorts, but with grass instead of sand. This wasn’t a place she could ever see herself spending much time. Perhaps there was a beauty in it, but she preferred the mountains over the plains. Maybe Orergon would be able to show her what he loved so much about his homelands, but right now she was struggling to see it.

  They continued to fly, covering mile after mile. The ground passed below, all of it looking the same. They spotted the occasional herd of animals—wild deer, buffalo, the occasional boar. But no sign of any Moerians. Was this how they kept themselves safe? They simply didn’t allow themselves to be found.

  Dela was starting to wonder if they’d ever come across any of the nomadic tribes, at least not before nightfall, but Orergon’s shout made her jump.

  “There!”

  She leaned out to peer down. Numerous horses ran across the yellowed grasslands. On their backs, without the aids of saddles or reins, were men, women, and children. Small children, no older than five or six, rode confidently, while the toddlers and babies were strapped to their parents’ backs. All shared Orergon’s coffee colored skin and shiny black hair.

  The tribespeople looked up as the dragon soared above them, some of their horses rearing up in fear, the riders skillfully staying on the animal’s backs. Birds with long white wings and even longer legs burst from the tall grasses just beyond the horses. The wind rippled through the grasses, the movement like waves on the ocean.

  Where only a moment ago Dela had been thinking the place looked like a dry wasteland, she suddenly saw the beauty in it. Everything about the scene before her spoke freedom to her, and it occurred to her that the Moerians may not need her in the same way the other races did. They weren’t trapped between city walls or banned from doing something that came naturally to them. There was the chance they would neither need nor want the chance to roam across the rest of Xantearos, content to be left alone on the Vast Plains. But then she remembered how, despite the appearance of freedom, they still struggled to feed their families in this place. The lack of rainfall made growing and harvesting crops near impossible, and though they were nomadic people, relying on hunting and scavenging rather than farming, they must sometimes wish for an easier way of life. No mother would ever want to see her child go hungry, no matter what traditions surrounded them. Besides, she wasn’t telling the Moerians to change who they were or their culture. She’d never dream of doing that. She was simply giving them the options to roam farther afield, should they wish.

  She urged the dragon lower, planning to land a little way ahead of the tribe. She’d half expected the Moerians to run at the sight of the dragon, but instead they banded together, pressing the weakest of their people—the young children and older members—in the center of their circle, while those who were armed surrounded them to keep them protected.

  The dragon hit the ground, and she braced herself as his momentum threw her backward, clinging tight to his spines and to the egg she had nestled in her lap. She hadn’t felt any movement from inside the egg again, but she would be brokenhearted if it cracked now.

  The males of the tribe had pushed forward, their spears held up. There was fear in their dark eyes, but also anger and determination. They certainly looked like a force to be reckoned with, and she didn’t want to have to use dragon fire to hold them back

  “Orergon,” she twisted over her shoulder to look at him, “you need to let them know it’s you, or they’re going to attack.”

  She wasn’t sure the spearheads could do much harm to the dragon’s thick scales, but the last thing she wanted was for him to see the Moerians as a threat and burn them. She looked around at the tall, dry grass. Even a warning would be a disaster here. The combination of dried grass, fire, and the hot wind would be a catastrophe.

  She reached into her pocket for the Dragonstone and briefly closed her eyes, using her thoughts to speak in the dragon’s mind. You can’t use your fire here. One spark and this place could go up in flames. Though she spoke the words in her head, her mind was filled with the image of the grasslands burning out of control.

  She hoped he understood her, but if the Moerians did attack, she could hardly blame him if he defended both her and himself.

  “Orergon,” she urged.

  The Moerians had taken on a defensive stance. The horses pranced nervously, their ears back and nostrils flared, though remaining under control of their riders.

  Behind her, Orergon jumped down from the dragon’s back and lifted both hands in the air.

  “Stand down!” he called to his people. “We mean you no harm.”

  Chapter 12

  Orergon

  The people of his tribe had been too far away for him to make out their faces, but as he got closer, he recognized them. Bare-chested, many of the men sported similar tribal tattoos as the ones that also covered his skin. Their long black hair was braided, where his now hung loose around his shoulders.

  One man rode his horse out of the line of defense as Orergon approached. He recognized him as Dohasan Keetir.

  Dohasan blinked a number of times. “Orergon Ortiz. Are my eyes deceiving me?”

  Orergon shook his head. “No, I’m back, Dohasan.”

  A frown lined the other man’s brow. “You died in the Southern Pass.”

  That wasn’t where I died, he thought but didn’t say. “Clearly, I didn’t.”

  “What is this magic? Are you a spirit come back to haunt us? You bring with you the spirit of the dragon?”

  “I’m no spirit, Dohasan,” he replied. “I’m as alive as you are.” He wondered about the truth of his words considering what he’d been through in recent weeks, and what he carried inside him. “So is the dragon. We come in peace.”

  “I feel like I must be seeing things,” Dohasan said, staring at the beast behind them.

  Orergon glanced over his shoulder to see Dela, Vehel, and Warsgra had also climbed down and were now standing at the dragon’s head. Dela had her palm placed against the creature’s cheek, though he didn’t know if she was doing that to calm the dragon or to show the Moerians that he wasn’t a danger to them. The dragon egg, which they’d brought all this way with them, was also on the ground near the dragon’s head.

  “You’re not, I promise you. All of this is real.”

  The tribesmen behind Dohasan had started to get restless, the horses side-stepping and snorting their discomfort.

  “It’s okay,” Orergon called out to them. “You don’t need to hold back. You all know of me. I’ve led our people for many years. I’d never do anything to put you in any danger.”

  He’d known they’d be wary of him. Though the Moerians traveled far across the Vast Plains, they rarely left the area, and the outside world was a mystery to them. A mystery that shouldn’t be trusted.

  A child’s voice, full of wonder, came from the middle of the circle. “Is that a real dragon?”

  “Hakan, no!” a female voice, presumably his mother, called out as the boy trotted his horse through the line of men, reducing the distance between himself and the dragon.

  “It’s okay,” Dela called back. “He won’t hurt a child.”

  Orergon glanced over his shoulder at her and hoped she was right. The dragon making a meal out of a young Moerian boy right now would put an end to any kind of peace.

  But the boy’s mother didn’t let him get any further. She kicked her horse into a gallop and rounded the front of him, pushing him back. She had another child strapped to her back.

  Dohasan turned his attention to Dela. “Who is this?” he demanded, looking at Dela but addressing Orergon.

  Dela, however, was the one to answer. “My name is Dela Stonebridge. I’m a human woman, but I’m also a Dragonsayer.
I assume news that the Treaty has been broken has reached you by now?”

  Dohasan nodded. “Yes, together with the news that Orergon Ortiz was killed alongside his tribesmen, Aswor and Kolti. Now we learn that isn’t the truth, so which parts are we supposed to believe?”

  “The Treaty was broken,” she assured him, “and King Crowmere is using it as a reason to send an army over to the western coast. I’ve intercepted that army, but that doesn’t mean he’ll give up. The man is driven by nothing more than greed, and he’ll take these lands as his own, if he decides to, so he can have all your gold as his own. He’ll happily let you all starve.”

  “What are you suggesting?” His dark eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “That you join me to fight against him.”

  Dohasan gave a bark of laughter. “Fight? We’ve been living in peace for a hundred and fifty years. Why would we choose to fight?”

  “You might not have a choice. If we don’t stand up to him, there’s no telling what King Crowmere might try to do. He’s already tried to send an army over here, and if it wasn’t for us and the dragon, they’d have slaughtered hundreds of the Norcs and be on their way to you.”

  Dohasan looked nervously over his shoulder toward the other Moerian men. “On their way to us? We can’t fight a human army.”

  “I know, which is why I stepped in before they reached you. But King Crowmere won’t stop. I’ve asked the Norcs the same thing, and they’ve agreed to stand with us against King Crowmere.”

  His frown deepened. “Stand with you? What does that mean, exactly?”

  “That together we remove King Crowmere from the throne.”

  “And then who will rule Xantearos?”

  “Right now you have a king reigning over you who you’ve never recognized as your own. I don’t plan on ruling over you with no representation from your own kind. Orergon Ortiz is one of you and is a respected leader of the Moerians. He’ll be by my side to rule with me.”

  Orergon spoke up. “Dela didn’t choose this role. It’s been thrust into her hands, and she’s accepted it with bravery and compassion. The Dragonsayers were always our leaders in years gone by. It’s only been since dragons were persecuted and then the races began to fight among each other that things changed. We want to get back to that time, when we all lived harmoniously side by side.”

  “With only one dragon?” someone called out of the crowd. “What if something happens to him?”

  “I believe there are more,” Dela replied. “I simply haven’t made the connection with them yet. Perhaps they’re still mistrustful of us—which I would completely understand. They might want to see how all of this plays out.”

  “And don’t forget the egg,” Orergon said, gesturing to where it sat on the ground among the long grasses. “It could hatch any day now, and that will be the start of a new generation of dragons. Xantearos is vast, and this was one egg we found, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t more, secluded away, waiting to hatch when the time is right.”

  Dohasan pursed his lips and exhaled a long breath through his nostrils. “I can’t make this decision alone. There are a number of Moerian tribes across the Vast Plains. For something this big, we need to bring everyone together.”

  Dela nodded. “I understand.”

  “Can we bring everyone together at the Steppe’s Mound?” Orergon suggested, mentioning the name of an ancient meeting place where many of their ceremonies took place. “We should all meet there.”

  “Very well. We’ll discuss this further then.” Dohasan turned and nodded to a couple of the other men on horseback behind him. “Ride. Find the other tribes and spread the word. We’re all to meet at Steppe’s Mound by nightfall tomorrow.”

  The men turned and rode in different directions, spreading out like a fan.

  “We can search, too,” Orergon offered. “The dragon will cover a greater distance in less time than the riders.”

  But Dohasan shook his head. “No. The dragon will only frighten our women, children, and animals. It’s better if the news of your arrival comes from us.”

  Orergon tried not to feel riled that the other man was challenging him. There had once been a time when no one would have dared go against what he said, but it seemed that time had passed. It was strange to think he’d assumed things would have stood still while he was away, but instead the tribe had simply continued without him, adapting to his loss and anointing a new leader. Of course, that was what Dohasan’s braids meant. It was tradition for a tribe leader to wear his hair as long as possible, and to keep it braided. Orergon’s hair was still longer than Dohasan’s, and he had no intention of cutting it off, even if another man had taken his place as tribe leader, as was the tradition. But Orergon’s hair was no longer in the traditional braids and instead hung loose around his shoulders. He tried not to let it bother him. At Dela’s side, he would be a far greater leader than anyone left here. That was if the darkness residing inside him didn’t take over first.

  He was concerned that his people would pick up on the dark magic. He’d wondered if Dohasan was going to mention it when he’d talked about Orergon having come back from the dead, but of course he was referring to the Southern Pass. No one else, other than Dela and the others, knew what had happened up on the fire mountain. He’d hoped he might somehow be able to confide in his people, but now he was here, he didn’t think such a thing would be a good idea. The Moerians were mistrustful of dark magic—his ability to harm—and if he was rejected by his people, he would no longer be any use to Dela. At the moment, she had one of each of their races at her side, but if his own race refused to recognize him any longer, what good would he be?

  But this thing that resided within him had saved everyone back at the Southern Trough. He may be struggling to accept it, but perhaps it had its place? The Seer had told them blood would be shed before this was all over. He couldn’t try to convince himself that he wouldn’t play a part in that bloodshed if it was necessary.

  “Do you know the way to this meeting place?” Dela asked him.

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  “Then we’ll respect the choice of the people and meet them there.”

  Orergon nodded. A part of him didn’t want the tribe to ride off without him. He guessed he missed his old way of life. He almost wanted to slip back into it, but this wasn’t his place now, just like the Southern Trough was no longer Warsgra’s home, or the Inverlands were no longer Vehel’s. It wasn’t easy to accept, and seeing other men moving so easily into his place left him with a twisting in his gut, but his home was by Dela’s side now, no matter where she ended up.

  Thoughts of his night with Dela filled his mind—the taste of her skin, her kisses on his mouth, how her long legs had wrapped around his hips, drawing him into her. How she trusted him more than he trusted himself. He’d always thought he would lay down his life for her, but now they’d shared that most intimate of acts, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate. He hadn’t been with a woman since his wife had died—more years than he’d ever admit to in public, ashamed perhaps, that it would make him less of a man. The leaders of their tribes were hunters and fighters, when needed, and though many had pushed him to take another woman, his broken heart hadn’t allowed such a thing. It had been that way right up until the point he’d met Dela, and then everything had changed. A part of him wondered if this was destined, and subconsciously he’d been saving himself for her.

  Dohasan was instructing other riders. The women and children waited on their mounts, looking anxious. Orergon spotted the young boy who’d tried to approach the dragon. How old would his son be now, had he survived? Older or younger than this brave child?

  He looked back to Dela. “Will you give me a moment?”

  “Of course.”

  He knew the names of most of the women and children here. They’d known him as their leader for a long time and had been friends with his wife before she’d died. They’d helped him through the grieving process after both she and their s
on had passed, and though he was aware he’d withdrawn from them emotionally, he’d still led their tribe right up until the day he’d departed for the last Passover.

  He put his hand out to the boy. “Hakan, do you remember me?”

  The boy’s lips twisted mistrustfully, but he gave a short, quick nod.

  “Yes? Your mother remembers me, too?” He looked to the woman.

  The mother, whose name was Tefeti, also nodded.

  “Do you want to meet the dragon?”

  Hakan’s big, dark eyes widened and he looked to his mother for assurance.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?” Tefeti asked Orergon.

  “I wouldn’t have brought the dragon here if I’d thought he would cause any of you harm. Dela and the dragon are here to fight for you, not against you.”

  “Very well.” She gave her son a nod. “Do as Orergon Ortiz tells you.”

  The boy slid from his horse’s back and scampered forward. Orergon took his hand and led him up to the dragon.

  The child looked tiny standing next to the huge beast. Dela smiled down at him. “You can touch his nose, if you like. He says that’s okay.”

  The boy’s eyes grew like saucers in his face. “You can hear him speak.”

  Dela wrinkled her nose. “It’s not like you and I speak, with words, but more a feeling and images. Like I just know what he knows.”

  Bravely, the boy extended his hand and placed his fingers on the spot between the dragon’s nostrils. “He’s smooth and warm,” he said in wonder.

  The dragon exhaled a puff of smoke, creating two smoke rings in the sky, and Hakan laughed.

  “See,” Dela said. “He likes you.”

  “Can I ride on him, like you all did? I can ride my horse alone now. I’m big enough.”

  Dela shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. He’s not like a horse. You can’t just ride him. He has to accept you first.”

  Orergon realized that meant the dragon had accepted both him and the other men. He still didn’t think the dragon would allow them to ride without Dela around, though.