I looked at the burned and blistered stump where my hand used to be. I took me weeks to build the snare one handed to capture the crow. But I have its heart and feathers now. I looked at my belt where I had the snake head I just obtained tonight. I just needed to cut out its tongue and I can bring that harlot witch back who can restore my body enough for me to take her power and take down O'Connell.
I wish I could do it without her, but even today I still haven't found all of her writings. I pulled the string, coiling it around my arm with my one hand as the bag containing everything I would need to start my revenge slid slowly out of the depths of the cave I've been forced to rot in.
I shuddered at the memory of the power of the Queen Dragon below. How had she wielded all the elements? The other two Queens I killed in their sleep never demonstrated that ability. Were they hiding it? And Caragh, could she do it, as well? I guess I'll never know the answer to that since I never saw her dragon before I sealed them all by my blood into the Fire Stone. Then it was an easy matter for me and my men to slit the throats of all the weak humans they became. I savored the memory of the light going out in Caragh's eyes. Did she really think I could love her?
But Myra, would surely have killed me in that horrific onslaught of earth, water, and fire had her attack not weakened the ground below me and I fell into the sewers below. But not before she shattered most of my bones and burned almost every inch of my body. It took me weeks to claw my way out through the sewers then up to this cave.
I pulled a piece of the human jawbone from the bag. This was always my fail safe. It took me hundreds of years to locate the final resting place of the witch. She thought it would be safe from me on that God forsaken island, she hid it well. But I had all the time in the world back then.
I set the jawbone back in the bag and started crawling down the mountain to the shallow grave a couple hundred yards off. I had to bury it because the animals were trying to eat it and the stench of decaying flesh was making me sick.
I couldn't believe my luck when I clawed my way into the girl's camp. What kind of idiot camps alone. It was perfect, I was wondering where I was going to find the body of a woman to perform this ritual. In my current state, it seemed almost impossible. But the lord shall provide. I slit her throat as she slept. It took days to drag her to my cave.
I started pushing off the stones I stacked on the grave. Then I clawed at the ground with my bloodied hand. I dusted off the rotting fetid flesh with a smile. Soon I would be whole again.
I pulled the sack up beside me and laid the jawbone on the corpse's chest. Then grabbed the snake head and placed it there too. I held it down with my stump as I cut the tongue out and threw the head off into the woods. I placed the tongue into the mouth of the dead woman and got the rest of the things I would need for the ritual. I had to strip away some flesh on her forehead because I couldn't draw on it and drew the thrall rune with my blood on the skull.
This was fitting. She was the only one who could rival me, but now she would be my puppet. I put the feathers, crow's heart and other items on the pile on her chest and arranged them in the proper manner and with the knife, cut the rune of death and flesh into her to connect the items.
I threw the knife aside in my excitement, this was it. I looked down to see the dragon bitch flying below land on that damned spire they built for her. “Soon” I hissed then started the chant. The sky above me darkened and the putrid smell of death swirled around. Burning embers started rising up and swirled around the body.
I scrambled back as the twisted magics of death and the flesh did my bidding. A few moments later the corpse sat up and gasped for breath. I had done it! She stood and looked around with half rotted eyes and she stopped when she looked at me. Her head tilted to the side and her snake's tongue shot out, tasting the air.
A voice from the pits of hell croaked out, “Georgios? Georgios of Lydda?”
I looked at the half corpse in front of me and laughed. “That's right Morgan. It is me and I am now your master. I need you to restore me to health so I can reclaim my immortality.”
She pointed at me and laughed. It was sickening. “It doesn't look as if you fared much better than me.” She looked at her rotting hands. “What makes you think I would ever willingly help a coward such as yourself? You couldn't take me on so you stole the dragons that could have given me the immortality you seek so you could outlast me. Time beat me you didn't.”
She glanced at the city below then to me. “How much time has passed? What year is this?”
I smirked at her. “Welcome to the twenty first century.” Then I hissed at her, “And don't you ever speak to me like that again! You want to know why I think you would willingly help me? Well, that is the joke. You have no will, I am your master now! I have drawn the thrall rune on your forehead.
Her hand went partially up toward her forehead then she dropped it to her side and started laughing... almost maniacally. I was enraged at her outburst, none of the other thralls were this mouthy. “Shut your mouth witch! Now restore my flesh!”
She stepped out of the grave and looked down at me with a sickening smile. Nodding her head and looking down at herself again. Then to the city. “There are dragons in this time?! You failed even in that. But yes. Flesh will need to be restored.”
She motioned her hand and my body flew up and against a tree. I was pinned and couldn't move, she walked up to me and tilted her head like she was examining me. I spat out, “Do it now, I command...” Then I felt searing pain as her hand shot out and grabbed my tongue and violently tore it out of my mouth before I was finished.
I wailed in pain, I was even more terrified now than during Myra's final attack on me. I tried to sputter, “How?” But it came out a guttural sound without my tongue.
She smiled and ran a finger down my cheek. “I'm assuming you are wondering how I can resist the thrall rune? It is simple you fool.” She reached up and wiped it off her exposed skull. Then she thought for a moment. “I guess you really wouldn't know would you? Since all of your magics were stolen from others, you wield no real power of your own.”
She laughed and her snake tongue tasted the air. “The magic of the flesh is my own, it does not conform to the other magics nor elemental and nature magics. It is the arcane. And as such, it is bound to those who craft it into its dark shape. Others can use it, but it remains bound to its master.”
She leaned in and I could smell her rotting breath. “I am its master, it does not work against me.” I could almost feel her anger radiating from her. My eyes darted around in terror and I lost control of my bladder.
She laughed hysterically at that. She stumbled back a step and bent over as she laughed. Then she looked down at Myra on that spire far below. “I tire of this, I need your flesh to complete me so I can go claim the dragons below, to get the immortality you let slip through your fingers Georgios.”
She grinned. “I'm afraid this is going to be quite painful for you. But don't worry, I'll leave your eyes and leave your remaining husk life bonded to that tree, so that you can view what is left of yourself decompose over the tree's lifetime. Just a hundred years or so.”
Then she chanted something and my flesh started dissolving as she started becoming whole I couldn't help but watch through my own screams and the searing pain as she became that beautiful girl I had killed. I felt myself fall to the ground in a clatter like dried rawhide. Looking at her and the valley below. The pain would not leave. For the first time in my long life, I wished I was dead.
She looked down at me as she stretched and sighed deeply. “Thank you. I feel marvelous now dear.” She looked at her arms and ran her hands along her sides. “Nice, very nice.” Then she spotted the girl's purse in the grave and retrieved it and found her ID. “Hmm... Jackie Johnson. Eeeww I look so young. Oh well, at least I'll have her lifetime to claim the dragons.”
Then a roar echoed through the mountains and we both looked down to see Myra challenging all who dare as her flames sh
ot up into the clouds.
Morgan turned to me. “Well goodbye dear, enjoy your existence. I have a dragon to slay!” She stopped and picked up my bag and cocked an eyebrow, “Dragon hearts? These could be useful.” Then she started off down the mountain.
Through the searing pain, I took solace in one simple fact. Like me, I was sure that Morgan la Fay was seriously underestimating the power of Doctor Myra O'Connell, Queen of the Dragons.
Books in the Drakon series...
Awakening
Books in the Music of the Soul universe...
(All books are standalone and can be read in any order)
Music of the Soul
A Deafening Whisper
Dating Game
Karaoke Queen
Silent Bob
Five Feet or Less
Broken Song
Syncopated Rhythm
Short Stories in the Music of the Soul universe...
Misadventures of Victoria Davenport: Operation Matchmaker
Books in the Valkyrie Chronicles series...
Return of the Asgard
Bloodlines
Folkvangr
Books in the Fracture series...
Fracture: Divergence
Sample Chapter of Music of the Soul: Progeny
(Coming in April 2014)
Chapter 1 - Arrival
This was so bloody exciting, I couldn't believe I was actually here! I, Samantha Prudence Roth, had somehow been accepted into the New York Academy of Art on a full scholarship!
I remember when the acceptance letter came. I must have squealed like a bloody git for ten minutes when I read it. It was one of the few times I had ever seen my mum cry. Most people don't think she is very emotional, but they don't know her. Underneath that stoic exterior swirls, more emotion than most people could possibly bear.
The look of awe that twinkled in her eyes was all I need to know that she was proud of me for accomplishing such a feat on my own merits. If I had just asked my parents, they would have paid for the college of my choice. But I was determined to make my own way and prove to myself I could do it with my own abilities rather than just because we could only afford it.
The campus was smaller than others, but arguably, some of the most artistic people of our age have spawned from this prestigious art institute. I think I read somewhere that there were less than two thousand students here with no plans of ever expanding.
I found out that my acceptance came down to the sketch study I had done of the homeless people of Seattle. My aunt Sandra... well she isn't really my aunt, I don't have any real aunts but there is a select group of women that my parents know, that I love as my aunts. Anyway, Sandra runs the Callahan Foundation. Yes, THAT Callahan Foundation. She's brill and is probably the most selfless person I know.
She brought me around the city throughout my senior year in high school, introducing me to some of the most fascinating people I have ever met. In most cases, it was a tragedy the circumstances that had landed them on the streets. But some, like a man named Leo, were almost regal and selfless to a fault. He says he does more good living on the streets now than he ever did patrolling them back when he was a police officer.
I had sketched the people as I saw them, not as the public sees them. I bound my sketches and presented them to the committee. I was late in my submission because I just had to finish my sketch of Leo to include it in the study. They at first said they would consider me for next year's enrollment since they had already filled all the seats for the year, and the competition was greater than normal this year.
I was all set to go to the art program at the University of Washington for my freshman year, I had a scholarship offer there. It was my second choice so I could still live at home. But one of the recipients in New York had deferred since they got an offer at the Regency Art College in France. I don't blame the guy, it was a great opportunity. So the acceptance committee here reached out to me!
Most of the other students had already arrived last week to get settled in before classes start tomorrow. But since I just received an acceptance letter three days ago, I didn't have that luxury. My parents helped me get everything together and to take care of everything I needed to with the University of Washington and the scholarship I had there, then I was almost physically thrown onto a plane this morning so I could start this new exciting chapter of my life.
So now, here I stood, in the large courtyard looking at the campus with my suitcase. I looked at my almost antique suitcase lovingly, mum named it 'clunky' but she has never told me why. I get the impression it has something to do with that Karaoke Queen competition from all those years ago. Uncle Tim always smiles when he looks at it too. Fine, he's not really my uncle. Mum says she'll ship the rest of the stuff I'll need in the next couple days.
There were some booths set up on the lawn for check-in for freshmen, and other booths to sign-up for various clubs. There was even a military recruiting booth set up. It had a picture of that spectacular bad-ass soldier on the front of their booth, what was her bloody name? The one that has won so many medals for her heroism? Robin Meyers! That was it.
There wasn't a queue, most of the students had already been here close to a week. A bloke stumbled backwards like he was pushed, almost right into me. A strong feminine alto voice rang out, “Now get the fuck out of my sight!”
The guy hissed, “Bitch!” Then he made his way quickly from the scene. Then the girl turned to a couple other blokes who were watching and took a single, lunging, menacing step toward them. They left quickly, as well.
Finally, she turned to look at a fourth boy and tilted her head, almost like it was a question, her eyes not as hard. He just nodded at her with a look of relief on his face. She had an almost evil grin on her face as she turned to walk away. She hesitated a moment as her eyes swept past me.
By all that was holy, if she wasn't so much of an apparent bitch, she would have taken my bloody breath away. She had an unconventional and hard beauty, not a girly girl femininity that so many others have.
She was tall, possibly five foot ten or eleven. Few women were as tall as my mum. This girl had a striking mane of straight brown hair. The things that stunned me most were her amber eyes. So light they almost glowed with an orange tint, all I could think was that they looked like cat's eyes.
I felt the collywobbles fluttering around in my stomach as I took in her feminine but slightly rugged appearance. She had a slight figure with not much in the breast department, but they still gave her a feminine curve under her band t-shirt. I almost snorted, it was a vintage Satin Thunder shirt. Her torn jeans looked almost painted onto her shapely legs. Her black converse sneakers completed the look.
Her face... it was one of those faces that made you smile and not even know why. Like a cute girl next door combined with some dangerous and seductive quality.
She started moving again and I realized I was staring at her as she left. Leave it to me to find such an abrasive bully attractive. I put her on my 'avoid' list. I prefer a kind, intelligent people to hang around with.
I stepped up to the freshman booth and smiled at the cute boy there. Well hello there! His name tag said Brent, he had some startlingly pretty green eyes. Must have come with that red mop of hair he was blessed with. He was a gangly fellow, but I prefer that sort of character over traditional looks. He was a little older than me, probably a junior or senior.
I smiled at him and he gave a lopsided smile back. “I'm supposed to pick up my new student welcome and orientation packet at the pavilions on the green. I'm assuming that this is the place.” I brushed my pink lock of hair out of my face and over my shoulder with my mass of blonde hair. I knew I should have worn a ponytail today.
He grinned. “This is the spot. He looked at the few packets left on the table. What was the name?”
I felt like a git. “Oh, yes, terribly sorry, my name. Samantha Roth.”
He blushed a little and responded, “Oh don't worry about it. I love your acc
ent.” He grabbed a welcome packet with my name on it and handed it to me. It never ceases to amaze me how many people say that to me. They feel I have a British accent when I speak, but in London we just call it talking. We moved to Seattle a little after my parents retired from the music business. But I was old enough that my accent sort of stuck. I like that because a lot of people say I sound like mum.
I took a sly page out of her book and replied, “Thank you... and I don't have an accent, you do.”
He snorted cutely and blushed at that. I grinned, he was a shy one, that just compounded his cuteness to me. Then he sat up straight like he had forgotten something. “Oh! You are in Schubert Hall, room 301, it is on the packet there. Would you like a student ambassador senior to show you there and give you a tour of the campus?”
I smiled at him. “That would be brill, Brent.”
He looked down at his name tag then back at me and his grin doubled, then he motioned to a group of young men and women who were chatting nearby. A cute brunette almost bounded over to us with an awesome smile on her face.
Brent blushed at her. The shy ones are always so endearing! Then he said to her, “This is Samantha Roth. She just arrived and needs an ambassador to get her situated.”
The young woman winked at him playfully, I'm sure just to get him to blush more. I like this wicked woman! “You got it Red.” Then she turned to me and put her hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Samantha. I'm June Harris-West. You can call me June or JW. What should I call you? Samantha, Sam, Sammie, Samster, the Samulater, Sam-a-lam-a-ding-dong, or just Hank?”
I couldn't stop from laughing at the exuberant woman, who reminded me a lot of my aunt Amber. She looked oddly familiar to me, especially that glint of keen intelligence sparkling in those chocolate brown eyes that seemed to be taking in everything at once. Brent spoke up, “Don't mind JW here. She gives everyone nicknames.”
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