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

by Marissa Farrar

  The hatch held for a moment and then gave way, flipping open to reveal the open air. Dela had expected sunlight to flood in—had been looking forward to it, too—but the amount of light barely changed.

  “It’s nighttime already,” Vehel exclaimed, giving voice to her thoughts.

  She frowned. “How long have we been down here?”

  Atticus’s whiskers twitched. “Oh, at least half the night. Still a few hours until morning, though.”

  She didn’t like the idea of them traveling at night. It was always going to be more dangerous than traveling in the day when they could see the dangers lurking around the corners. Not that they’d been able to see the wind coming, however, and it wasn’t as though the Vast Plains had any corners.

  Orergon pushed his way forward, forcing the others farther down the tunnel to make room for him. “I’m going up first.”

  No one made any move to stop him. He knew this area better than any of them.

  Orergon reached up to the top of the hatch and hauled himself out. His body vanished, followed by his feet.

  They all held their collective breath, listening for any sign of trouble.

  “Everything okay, Orergon?” she called after him.

  A few moments of silence passed, her stomach twisted in knots, before he answered. “Everything is quiet. I think the wind is gone, but I can’t see if anything is moving in the distance.”

  “We can’t stay down here forever,” Dela said. She turned to Warsgra behind her. “Give me a boost.”

  He furrowed his brow at her. “I should go first.”

  “Orergon has already checked. Just give me that boost.”

  He knew better than to argue with her. He was already hunched over, so he laced his fingers together to offer her a step. She put both hands on his broad shoulders to get her balance, shoved her booted foot onto his laced fingers, and then reached for the edges of the hatch. Warsgra pushed her up at the same time—her weight nothing to him—and she launched out of the hole, landing on the ground beside it. Orergon reached down and offered her a hand, which she took, and then hauled her to her feet.

  She straightened, dusted herself down, and took a moment to look around.

  Movement came near her feet where the other two pulled themselves up. Within a minute, both Warsgra and Orergon were standing at her side.

  Stars winked and blinked in the night sky overhead, the moon offering some light. But the rest of the Vast Plains was in utter darkness—not even a fire burning to offer them some focus point.

  “Do you know what direction to go in?” she asked Orergon, feeling nervous.

  He nodded. “Of course. I’ll get you back to Steppe’s Mound.”

  Atticus still hadn’t climbed up, so Dela went back to the hole. “Everything okay, Atticus?”

  “I’ll say farewell to you here, friends,” Atticus called up to them. “It was good to meet you all, despite the circumstance. Dela the Dragonsayer, I wish you all the best in your ruling.”

  She leaned back down over the still open hatch, taking care not to fall in. “Thank you for all your help, Atticus. I will remember the service you gave us.”

  “Don’t go speaking of it, though,” he told her. “Us Duendes prefer to stay out of the limelight.”

  She smiled. “Whatever you say.”

  Dela moved out of the way to allow Atticus to pull the rope, lifting the hatch back over the hole. It slammed into place. The top of the hatch was covered in the same tall grasses that covered the rest of the area. Only if you were right upon it would you notice that they were crushed to one side. Otherwise, the hatch was hidden from anyone who might pass by.

  It was just the four of them again.

  Chapter 15

  Dela

  They walked through the rest of the night into morning.

  There was no sign of the Foehn wind, the air remaining still around them. They walked in near silence, used to traveling together now and not needing to make small talk. Dela’s gaze repeatedly lifted to the sky, both hoping to spot the shape of the dragon and also nervous to see him again. She’d left the egg and taken herself to safety. How would the dragon react to his baby being abandoned?

  She could call the dragon and have him fly them to the meeting place, but she was frightened of his reaction. Shame filled her at having forgotten the egg.

  The hours passed, and finally the sky lightened to a dark blue.

  In the distance, she spotted the curve of Steppe’s Mound and the rectangular formations of the stone structures on top. Her heart picked up, her breath catching, and she increased her pace, barely holding herself back from breaking into a run. “We’re nearly there.”

  Her mouth ran dry with nerves. She glanced up into the sky, trying to spot the now familiar shape of the dragon against the deep blue, but there was nothing. She could have tried to contact him through her thoughts, but her own fears held her back. What if she had bad news? Would he try to harm her, or one of the men? If she’d inadvertently harmed something the dragon loved, would he seek his revenge by killing something—or someone—she loved, too?

  “It’ll be all right, Dela,” Vehel told her.

  She shook her head. “You don’t know that.”

  She gave in to her natural instincts and broke into a run. To her surprise, she saw there were already others on Steppe’s Mound waiting for her. A couple of the tribes had made it there before her, but she couldn’t even think about formalities, or what they would think of this wild-eyed girl hurtling toward them. She saw their frowns, their looks of confusion.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she managed to gasp, looking around, trying to remember the exact spot where they’d left the egg. Now they were back here, all the stones looked the same, and she’d lost her sense of direction in her panic.

  “It’s okay,” Orergon assured his people. “The dragon egg. We’re looking for the dragon egg. Has anyone seen it?””

  “There’s something over here,” a male voice shouted.

  Dela spun toward the voice and ran. She circled another of the stone formations, and recognized the spot they’d been resting at when the wind had first blown in from the west. Incredibly, the items of fur they’d been sitting on were still pushed up against the base of the stones. The circle must have offered them shelter.

  She saw what she’d been searching for and gasped, her hand clamped over her mouth.

  The eggshell had fractured into several pieces.

  Dela dropped to her knees beside it. “By the Gods,” she cried. “It broke!”

  She didn’t want to look, terrified she’d find the body of the baby dragon, not yet ready to hatch, but smashed out of the egg by the wind, but when she reached out and pulled the pieces of the shell away, she revealed only the ground.

  She blinked hard, trying to piece together what she saw. Had the wind blown the body away, but not the shell?

  “Dela!” Orergon’s voice, and she turned toward it. “Look.”

  She followed his line of sight toward the center of the ring of stones.

  There, sitting in the middle of the stones, was the baby dragon. It was about a foot tall, with scales of a fiery red. As Dela stared in amazement, the little creature opened its mouth and screeched.

  “Oh, you’re alive!”

  The baby dragon turned toward Dela’s voice. With a little jump, and a flap of wings that didn’t look as though they’d fully developed yet and that she doubted would be strong enough to allow it to fly, the baby dragon hopped and skipped over to her, its amber eyes warm and curious.

  Dela gave a laugh of joy and put out her hand. She was barely aware of the group of people who’d gathered around to watch the spectacle. Numerous tribespeople were wide-eyed with wonder at the first glimpse of a dragon they’d ever seen. These weren’t Orergon’s tribe and so hadn’t seen the adult dragon yet, though she doubted it would be long before he made himself known. He’d want to meet his baby, too.

  The tribespeople stared at th
em both with awe.

  The dragon leaned forward and sniffed her hand, then huffed out a small cloud of warm smoke. Instinctively, Dela knew the baby was female.

  “That’s right,” she told the baby. “I’m your friend.”

  With a flap of her underdeveloped wings, she hopped up onto Dela’s forearm. The Moerians around her gasped and murmured to each other, but Dela barely noticed. Joy filled her heart at the presence of the baby dragon.

  “Where’s your dad, huh?” she said. “I bet he’ll be happy to see you. Do you have a name? I don’t even know if your dad has a name. I wish I did.”

  Something guided her hand—the dragon, perhaps, or just some deep-seated instinct—and she reached into her pocket, her fingers wrapping around the Dragonstone. Her eyes slipped shut, and then began to burn against the backs of her eyelids, and she felt herself tumble into that black whirlpool that signaled her descent into the dragon’s mind. Only this time, she didn’t find herself soaring above Xantearos, but looking out at herself.

  Do you have a name? she heard herself saying, though somehow she knew this was a memory she was witnessing. Something that had happened only moments before. And in her head she heard a name.

  Iros.

  Her heart lifted. Iros. That was the baby dragon’s name.

  I don’t even know if your dad has a name…

  Torggu.

  That was the name of the dragon she’d been riding right across the country. She didn’t know how the baby dragon knew this. Perhaps she already had some kind of psychic connection with her father, and he was able to communicate with her while she was growing inside the egg? Not that it mattered. It felt good to finally be able to name them.

  She released her hold on the Dragonstone and opened her eyes in her own body. From the way her pupils still burned and the reaction of the Moerians around her, she knew her eyes were glowing yellow, but they would fade soon enough.

  She glanced back at Orergon and Warsgra and Vehel, unable to stop the smile stretching across her face, and they all grinned back at her. The Moerians were all muttering to each other or staring at her and the baby dragon, Iros.

  Orergon stepped forward. “Dela is a Dragonsayer,” he told the Moerians who hadn’t been present at the first meeting. “She’s going to lead us all, together with her dragons, and make Xantearos a happier, safer place.”

  In the distance came a mournful shriek, and everyone turned toward the sound. The dragon, Torggu, appeared as a dot in the lightening sky, and quickly took shape. Dela was pleased to see him, but her stomach still churned with nerves. She’d abandoned the egg, after all, and even though it had all worked out, she hoped he wouldn’t punish her for it.

  Iros jumped from her arm and landed on the ground, her stubby wings flapping without getting anywhere. She hopped from foot to foot, smoke puffing from her nostrils, clearly happy to see Torggu. Dela didn’t know if they were even actually related by blood, but as they were the only two dragons alive, as far as she was aware, she guessed that made them relatives.

  “Come on,” she said to Iros. “He can’t land in the middle of the stones.”

  She bent and scooped up the baby dragon and made her way to the outskirts of Steppe’s Mound. Everyone followed her but kept a respectful distance. The Moerians’ horses had been tied up before they’d reached the mound, and were on the other side, so the dragon wouldn’t fly over the top of them, but that didn’t stop them getting spooked.

  The massive dragon grew closer and closer. As his sheer size was realized, a number of the Moerians backed away, putting more space between them. Orergon assured them the dragon wouldn’t do them any harm, but she understood their nervousness.

  He finally landed on the edge of the mound, tucking his wings under his body.

  In her arms, Iros struggled to be put down, so Dela bent and allowed the tiny dragon to jump to the ground. Iros immediately hopped and flapped her way over to the newly named Torggu. Torggu ducked his head to touch noses with her, and Iros let out a chirrup of pleasure and excitement.

  It was crazy how much bigger the adult dragon was compared to the baby. Dela wondered how fast Iros would grow. Did it take dragons years to reach adult size, or less?

  “Dela, look.”

  She turned at Orergon’s voice.

  Across the tundra surrounding them rode several groups of people, each coming from a different direction. Her stomach churned with fresh nerves. The other tribes were coming, and soon they would make their decision about whether they would support her or not.

  Before they reached the Mound, they jumped off their horses and walked the final part toward her, their eyes wide at the sight of both her and the dragons.

  “The dragon,” one of the men gasped.

  “A Dragonsayer.”

  “She is a Dragonsayer.”

  One by one, each of these big, powerful men dropped to their knees before her and leaned forward, pressing their noses to the dirt.

  “Please, get up,” she said, feeling awkward. “You don’t need to do that. I’m not asking to be worshipped or revered in any way, only to be listened to.”

  They lifted their faces to her, and she motioned with her hands to tell them to rise. Gradually, they each got to their feet but remained in front of her, seemingly anxious to hear what she had to say.

  She looked around at their proud, strong faces, and opened her mouth to speak. “Thank you, everyone, for making this journey to meet with me. I realize what I’m asking of you is a lot. The Treaty is broken, and King Crowmere is using it as an excuse to wage war with you all again. I won’t let him. Together, we need to stand up against him. It may mean losing the lives of some of your people in order to stand with me, and I wouldn’t expect you to enter into this lightly. But I do need your help. There are a group of humans and Norcs waiting for the Moerian warriors to join them at the Southern Trough, and from there we will travel through the Southern Pass, and take King Crowmere off his throne. I ask that you send your best fighting men to join us. With Crowmere off the throne, I’ll make sure each of the races will be free to live where and how they want.”

  The man Orergon had called Dohasan stepped forward. “We love the Vast Plains, but we also understand how much easier life would be if we were able to roam even farther across Xantearos. But you do not need to give us any explanation, Dela the Dragonsayer. We can see what you are, and we will support you, no matter the cause.”

  She allowed herself to smile and ducked her head. “Thank you, Dohasan. I would never suggest this if I didn’t believe it was for the best for all our people.”

  “Of course. I will send our best men to meet your humans and the Norcs at the Southern Trough.” His gaze flicked to Vehel. “And what of the Elvish? I assume the presence of an Elvish prince means they’re already on board?”

  But Dela shook her head. “We’ll be flying to the Inverlands now, to speak with King Dawngleam and ask him to join our cause.” Dela didn’t think the Elvish would be quite so responsive as the Moerians, dragon or no dragon.

  “In that case,” Dohasan said, lifting his chin, “we will meet again at the Southern Trough.”

  “Thank you.” She let her gaze drift across the other Moerians. “Thank you, all of you.”

  She signaled the dragon. They had work to do, and there was no point in spending any more time in the Vast Plains.

  With the baby dragon, Iros, perched on her shoulder, she, Warsgra, Orergon, and Vehel all climbed back on Torggu, and, with a sea of Moerians watching from below, they took back off into the sky.

  Chapter 16

  Vehel

  Vehel was returning to the Inverlands.

  He didn’t know how to feel about it. He was looking forward to seeing his mother and letting her know he was still alive, and there was a part of him that felt he should hold his head high, arriving with Dela the Dragonsayer and her dragons. He was to be at her side when she ruled over Xantearos, and she wanted to bring them all together, not drive them ap
art, but he knew his father and his brothers. They would not welcome her arrival. While there was no love lost for King Crowmere in the Elvish kingdom, the king left them alone, apart from when they needed to provide their diamonds for the Passover. He hoped the information that there would be no more Passovers would be taken well by his father, and that would smooth the way for the news that Dela would be ruling over them now. Where the other races had been mollified by the idea that they would have one of their own at Dela’s side to represent them, he didn’t think any of his family would be happy about him having that role.

  Another thing worried him, and that was the news of Dela’s brother. There was no question that she would just let things lie. Her brother meant everything to her, and the news that his brother had had something to do with his disappearance was another source of antagonism. Vehten wouldn’t take kindly to being questioned by a human girl—dragons or no dragons—and Dela wouldn’t allow Vehten to brush off her questions. Vehel feared his brother would end up dead from dragon fire, but more than that, he feared his brothers and father would try to harm Dela.

  On top of all of that, he was also the one who’d broken the Treaty. That was yet another thing his father would use against him. His father wouldn’t see anything that was happening as a good thing, a rightful change for Xantearos.

  Some time had passed since he’d last used his magic, and he could feel it building at his center and growing in strength. Though the Seer had taught him how to use it without expelling all of his energy, there was no doubt that using the magic still weakened its power. But not using the magic made it stronger, and he wondered what would happen now if he didn’t use his magic for any length of time. Would it continue to build? Would one day it become too strong, so he could no longer control it? Or would it consume him, and he would belong to the magic instead of it belonging to him?