Swords of the Six
Volume 1 in The Sword of the Dragon® series
Copyright © 2011 by Scott Appleton
Published by Living Ink Books, an imprint of
AMG Publishers, Inc.
6815 Shallowford Rd.
Chattanooga, Tennessee 37421
All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in printed reviews, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (printed, written, photocopied, visual electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the publisher.
Print ISBN: 978-0-89957-860-6
ePub ISBN: 978-1-61715-047-0
Mobi ISBN: 978-1-61715-048-7
First Printing—February 2011
THE SWORD OF THE DRAGON is a trademark of
AMG Publishers.
Cover illustration by Jennifer Miller
Cover layout and design by Daryle Beam at BrightBoy Design, Inc.,
Chattanooga, TN Interior design and typesetting by Kristin Goble at PerfecType,
Nashville, TN
Edited by Rebecca L. Miller, Bonnie Appleton, Jennifer Salveggio, and Rick Steele
Look for Offspring—the next book in The Sword of the Dragon series, releasing spring 2011
This book is for my brother, Brian.
Without your encouragement I wouldn’t have pressed forward with The Sword of the Dragon. You were my first reader and loyal fan.
CONTENTS
Pronunciation Guide
Author’s Preface
Prelude: Blood of the Righteous
PART I: SEEDS OF SALVATION
One: Shizar Palace
Two: Rusted Swords
Three: A Weapon of Living Fire
Four: Specter
Five: Cottage on the Riverbank
Six: The Green-blooded Dragons
Seven: Angel Amidst the Darkness
Eight: Mistress of the Ruins
Nine: Traitor’s End
Ten: The Portal Opens
Eleven: Planting Seeds
PART II: THE MIGHTIEST OF SWORDS
One: Man of the Wilderness
Two: Pursuing Visions
Three: Before the Dawn
Four: Forest Maiden
Five: Beneath the Stars
Six: The Offspring of the Dragon
Seven: The Sword of the Dragon
Acknowledgments
PRONUNCIATION GUIDE
Albino: al—buy—no
Al’un Dai: al—oon die
Auron: or—on
Barlin: bar—lin
Caritha: cuh—rih—thuh
Clavius: clav—ee—us
Corbaius: kor—bay—us
Dantress: dan—tress
Drusa: droo—suh
Elsie: el—see
Eva: eh—vuh
Evela: eh—veh—luh
Ganning: gan—ning
Glandstine: gland—stine
Gwen: gwen
Hasselpatch: has—ell—patch
Helen: hel—en
Hermeneudis:
her—men—ooh—dis
Hestor: hest—ore
Honer: hone—er
Ilfedo: ill—fed—oh
Kesla: kess—luh
Laura: lore—uh
Letrias: let—ree—us
Levena: leh—vee—nuh
Melvin: mel—vin
Mivere: mih—veer—ee
Oganna: oh—gahn—nuh
Ombre: ahm—bray
Ramul: ruh—mool
Rose’el: roh—zell
Seivar: sigh—var
Specter: spec—ter
Turser: ter—ser
Valorian: vuh—lore—ee—an
Venom-fier: ven—um fee—air
Xavion: ex—zave—ee—uhn
AUTHOR’S PREFACE
Whereas I have undertaken the task of telling the whole tale of The Sword of the Dragon, I found it necessary to write a part of the story I had not intended to. The story of Ilfedo and the sword of Living Fire is epic, both in length and in scope, but after much consideration I determined to tell the story which led in to the main story line, first.
Thus was born Swords of the Six. For my intents and purposes, it is the novel that foreshadows and sets the stage for the larger story to come. A prelude novel, if you will, that opens approximately one thousand years before the main story begins.
Though not as large in scope as the novels which will follow, Swords of the Six holds a special place in my heart. It gave me the opportunity to tell how the six sisters first obtained their swords and the web of evil in which the world of Subterran was being bound. The Eiderveis River, with its troubled history, carried me along the sisters’ path and left me to follow their footsteps through the forests to the ruins of the wizard’s temple once haunted by the witch, that mistress of darkness.
Take nothing for granted, in the tale before you. There are foreshadowings of things to come. Things evil and things good. Victory is not obtained without sacrified. Neither is heroism a word with which every warrior may be labeled. And sometimes the price of doing the right thing is higher than we are prepared to pay. It may cost a hero or heroine their blood. Or, it may cost them their very life.
Let the adventure begin,
—Scott Appleton
PRELUDE:
BLOOD OF THE
RIGHTEOUS
His black scales shimmering with the blood of a thousand warriors, the dragon Valorian spread his wings and drew back his long neck. Smoke rose from his nostrils, veiling the glint of sunlight in his dark eyes, and a swath of flames issued from his maw. Mauled men lay wounded and dying all around him.
Line upon line of grim-faced men knelt behind their shields, facing the creature, whispering silent prayers as the dragon’s attack melted the shields of those closest to him and roasted them inside of their armor. The screams of the dying birthed anger in those closest to the victims. With fierce determination the lines of men rose with cries of revenge and charged the dragon.
But he looked upon them with disdain and stabbed his serpentine head into the ground, burrowing into the soil. Within moments his sleek body and ashen tail followed his head, disappearing into the inordinately small hole.
The warriors froze in their tracks. Beyond their ranks they could hear the march of thousands more of their allies. They heard shouts of victory and could only hope it did not originate with the enemy.
The ground collapsed under a dozen of the warriors. Valo-rian rose through the soil, his mighty claws raked the warriors near at hand, spilling their blood into the pools forming around their companions. The warriors raised their swords and some sought to impale the monster on spikes, but Valorian growled with delight and burrowed into the ground.
The warriors fell back, fearful of his next assault. But they did not retreat far enough. The black dragon burst into their midst and slew a hundred more by the might of his claws.
Stumbling over one another, the warriors sought to escape. Valorian burrowed into the ground yet again and a rout ensued. Men panicked, dropped their weapons and fled.
“Weak and futile!” The dragon growled as a small line of braver souls formed in his path. “Are all of Albino’s warriors as children in comparison to me? Are they mere fodder?” He swung around and the scales along his tail rose like barbs. “Treat me not as any other foe,” the dragon uttered darkly. His tail whipped into the warriors’ midst and the scales along it cut through their armor, snagging like hooks in their flesh.
Valorian drew out his tail, half-a-dozen warriors impaled upon it. He smashed their bodies against the ground.
“Weak fools! Ye are blind; powerless!” The dragon spat thick black ooze from
his maw. He reached out with his claws, grabbed one of the dead men caught on his tail, and tore off the stained armor. “Weak,” the creature repeated. As the weary warriors watched, Valorian swallowed his victim whole.
Leaving their courage in the dust, the men ran hastily after their fellows. And the dragon rent the air with a roar of victory.
But those who fled came to a sudden halt and parted like the sea as another warrior rose in their path and commanded them to rally. He briskly strode forward and the trembling warriors obediently turned to face the dragon again. Advancing alone against the dragon, the wind whipping his white cape around his ankles, the captain silently raised his arm and closed his fist.
Fresh troops slipped through the ranks of the weary and wounded, buffering them from the struggle to come. A unified force. They aligned behind their captain. Spearmen stood steady, the shafts of their lances a line two hundred strong. From behind them marched the shield bearers and a mixture of archers and swordsmen, taking up defensive posture between them and the monster. The sunlight glinted on their gold helms and the silver emblem of a dragon engraved upon each.
They waited in silence as a second warrior, a prince, emerged from their ranks and drew a scimitar from his scabbard.
Brian’s boots ground into the compacted dirt as he made his way through the ranks to join his mentor and captain. Stepping between two spearmen he glanced down that line of tall men bedecked in their mail coats, their fists gripping the wooden shafts of their spears. The spearheads glinted in the afternoon sunlight, pointed at the heavens.
He hurried forward. The shield bearers and the archers sidestepped before him, clearing a path through their midst. And he walked fifty paces.
But the white-caped figure that stood between him and the dragon raised a commanding hand. The warrior captain looked over his shoulder at Brian. “Come no closer.” And his blue eyes held Brian’s gaze.
“With respect, Xavion,” the prince objected, drawing his cream-bladed scimitar from its scabbard and frowning.
Xavion slowly shook his head down at him. “Leave this creature to me.”
Hiding his trepidation with two backward steps the prince adjusted the gold helm on his head, made a slight bow, and smote the flat of his blade against his breastplate. Behind him the distant shouts of allies and enemies and the ringing of metal blades against shields marked the battle’s continuation. He could only hope the enemy would not gain the upper hand.
The young prince watched his captain.
Xavion stood out in stark contrast to the creature he faced. His white cape and graying beard gave him the appearance of a righteous prophet framed by the dragon’s pitch black form. And from his side the aged captain drew his sword. The sunlight played through its blade as if it were cut from diamond, casting rainbows of color on the dark ground.
Valorian roared delight and stabbed his head into the ground, slithering out of sight only to emerge moments later. The ground beneath Xavion rose and the dirt fell away to reveal the dragon’s serpentine head. The captain fell aside but grabbed hold of the dragon’s scales and stabbed his blade through one of the leathery wings.
“And now this duel bores me,” the dragon hissed. It turned as if to flee and Xavion leapt after it. The scales along Valorian’s tail rose and he coiled it around the man’s torso, pinning his arms to his sides with painful ease. “And so I end this, Xavion! Thou should’ve stayed in the bounds of Emperia; for all that is here will be mine until Yimshi’s light fails in the heavens.”
A scream of agony from the captain rolled over the ground, reached Brian’s ears and those of the warriors standing near at hand. He raised his scimitar. Anger burned in his heart as he saw blood flow unhindered down the captain’s breastplate. “Charge!”
The prince ran. With all his strength he sped toward the dragon, closing the distance and hearing the sound of several hundred men charging behind and around him. Their cries thundered around him as they threw their spears at the dragon and shot their arrows.
Dropping Xavion, Valorian opened his mouth and crouched low to the ground with wings flexing. His dark eyes scorned the rescuers and fire roiled from his mouth, engulfing the assailants nearest the prince.
Brian did not wait for the dragon to attack again. He ran to where Xavion had fallen and, with one hand still clenching his weapon and the other arm hooked around the larger man’s chest, dragged him from the fray.
The dragon slaughtered the warriors. Brian gritted his teeth as the screams of the wounded and dying mixed with those of their brave comrades covering their wounded captain’s escape. Xavion shook his head as if awaking from sleep and immediately stabbed his sword into the ground, bringing Brian to a jarring halt. The prince felt as if he were a ship on high seas and someone had just dropped an anchor overboard.
Letting the man slip from his grasp, he swallowed hard.
“Brian.” The captain did not need to say more. His eyes burned into Brian’s, unwavering in their rebuke. With one hand the captain unclasped his punctured breastplate and let it clatter to the ground. There it rested with the gold emblem of a dragon shining from its snow-white face and his blood caking to its surface.
One sweeping glance at the captain’s bloody chest told Brian all he needed to know. “But Master … you cannot go on like this. The fight is over.”
Xavion grunted. The muscles along his sword arm rippled and hardened. Holding on to the sword’s handle he stumbled to his feet, staunching the flow of blood from a rip in his chest with his free hand. The crimson fluid pulsed from his chest, leaking between his fingers.
All around them the warriors, on whom this battle depended, fled to the rear. Valorian launched himself into the fleeing men, landing with enough force to knock those nearest him to their knees. Without hesitation he lashed out with tooth and claw, then followed through with swaths of flame.
“My Master,” Brian said as he saw tears flow down Xavi-on’s cheeks. They were standing only a hundred feet from the slaughter. Any delay and they too could end up as these other warriors. “Master, the battle is lost! You must order the men to withdraw.”
But the captain swung around and landed a punch to Brian’s jaw. The prince fell back, stunned. He could feel tears burning in his own eyes as he returned his mentor’s gaze.
“Do not ever dare to speak to me of such a thing again.” Xavion rose to his full height and flipped his sword with practiced ease. He pointed its blade at the dragon. “Stay behind if you must. But if you do then you are not the warrior I have trained you to be.
“Flee now and live. Or, stay … and fight while the enemy is near.”
The captain ran now, ran toward the dragon with death in his eye. And the prince’s heart beat stronger and his hand held his blade with greater certainty as he too ran in opposition to the retreating forces. He saw Xavion’s white cape fly over the dying and the dead, saw the warrior’s crystal blade sparkle once again in the sunlight.
With a glance the dragon recognized Xavion. Its wicked eyes opened wide and it turned to meet the captain’s assault. But Xavion had slipped between the dragon’s forelegs and pulled back his sword. And he thrust it upward at an angle so that it slipped between the dragon’s scales and sank up to its hilt.
Opening its mouth with a roar of pain the dragon thrashed on the ground. Brian stopped his charge and the dragon threw Xavion into the air. Spreading his arms and clenching his fists, he caught his captain, or, rather, the man’s body crashed into his and they fell. The impact forced the air out of his lungs and the captain’s body weighed on his chest.
Xavion growled and rolled off of him, stood up. Somehow he had managed to keep his sword. He wrung its handle and leaned down to grasp the prince’s shoulder. His eyes conveyed his gratitude and he again faced in the dragon’s direction. “Valorian,” he yelled as a handful of warriors banded to his side. “I still live.”
“Ye are fools! Filthy fools!” Valorian raked the ground with his claws and stepped on a wounded
man, silencing his cries. “Now,” the dragon said, “darkness will fall.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance and storm clouds rolled over the rocky landscape that rose and fell in a series of jagged hills to the south. The clouds hid the blue sky and encroached upon the sun before conquering it. What had been a field lit by daylight now faded into all-encompassing darkness.
Silence spread like a plague over the field of battle. Then a point of light appeared before the survivors, pulsing and swelling into a bubble of phosphorescent green light that dimly illuminated the face of its orchestrator. The black dragon rested the bubble in his palm and imprisoned it in his clawed fingers. In its steadying glow his eyes and scales shone with foreboding malevolence.
“Meet the fury of my revenge with courage if thou art able, Xavion.” The dragon tasted the air with his forked tongue. “Meet thy doom at my hand if thou canst bear it. For this day ye shall fall.”
Xavion did not respond with words but his hand found Brian’s shoulder in the darkness. “Spread the word,” he whispered between labored breaths. “Tell the men to fall back to northward hills and seek shelter in the caves.”
“Fall back? But you have wounded him—”
“Do as I say!”
A bolt of green lightning zipped to the ground and Brian expected some of his allies to cry out, for it struck the very place where their reinforcements stood waiting. But a chill ran up his spine as the momentary brightness revealed not ranks of the living but ranks of the dead. The spearmen and the archers, along with the swordsmen sprawled on the ground, chilled in pools of their own blood.
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