The Spires of Dasny: 2: Queen of Dragons

by Cheryl Rush Cowperthwait

  © Cheryl Rush Cowperthwait 2021

  ISBN:

  Cover: Lilly Dormishev

  Editor: Jessica Mandella

  Formatted: KH Formatting

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Sneak Peek Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Author’s Note

  Dedication

  I would like to thank all those that have read any of my books. You do me a great honor. To all who like to live larger than your physical location, who are willing to pick up a book and become immersed between the pages, who find themselves living the story, this is for you. Safe travels!

  Chapter 1

  Peace clings in our valley after the battle of Garneth five years ago. The one in which we, along with Hu’gan and his warriors, battled against the invading dragons and at last put an end to the rule of Krulem. We have earned our peace through blood, flame and excruciating loss.

  Gone are the burnt homes of my village below the Spires—the last traces of the devastation brought upon us by the rogue knights. In the place of the ashen ghosts, a new town has arisen, fresh in paint and board, some even with the painted likenesses of the dragons who protect us. The township carries a new name. Phoenix. It rises from the ashes of destruction to a growing township supporting the Dragon Riders School and the dragons of the Spires.

  I stand enveloped in the late summer morning sunlight coming in through the south-eastern opening into the Spires. The dust motes and memories stir in the gentle breeze. It is in this relative quiet of the morning my wishful heart remembers the moments of uncommon bliss shared between three dragon riders and three dragons. Those were the brief months when we were the only dragon riders, without the demands of the new school. Sipping my warm tea, I hear the caverns come alive with roars and voices chipping away at the solitude of another sunrise.

  Elky rushes towards me in her new rider leathers with scarves billowing in her wake, breathless and talking. “Are you ready to visit the hatchlings? We have just enough time if we leave now to see them before our Sword and Fighting class.”

  “Yes, I’ve already spoken to Dreyth. He and Ustice will be here in a moment. Did you have something to eat?”

  “I grabbed some jerky and ate an apple. I didn’t want to take the time for porridge.” Her grin is infectious.

  Dreyth arrives on the outside ledge and moves inside for me to clamber up his scales. Ustice sets down close to Elky so she can take her riding position. The only time our dragons allow us to ride without saddle is for these short jaunts to the nearby caverns of the hatchlings. Even then, they arrive with their leather neck-bands the leather workers created. They work wonderful for these short rides as the thick bands have stitched leather openings, allowing our hands to slip inside for gripping during flight.

  After a stern warning not to tarry too long with the hatchlings, we’re dropped off at the entrance.

  The roar of the hatchlings fills the deep cavern. Elky pulls me into the protected hollow to visit the fast growing hatchlings as they leap from outcroppings along the cavern walls, stretching tender wings still unused to flight.

  “Aren’t they adorable? I’m so happy the Spires have filled with more dragons. Look how many babies we have.”

  I practically snort a laugh. “You can hardly call them babies. They’re the size of one of the covered wagons down below.” She gives me an eye-roll pushing her hands on her hips.

  “Seyra, they are still babies. When do you think they’ll be able to have riders? We still have a long list of riders wanting their own dragons.”

  I shrug my shoulders. I’ll admit, I enjoy the privilege of being one of the few trusted to enter into the hatchlings’ domain. It was a hard fought battle that Dreyth instituted, due to the lack of individual lairs separated from people. Our school is full to overflowing with students, and when you add the amount of support people needed in the Spires, it brings us much closer to the lairs than when the school first opened.

  The hatchling cavern is near our school, but in the adjoining mountain where the babies are raised together. The mothers are in a rotation of visiting, teaching and feeding. The pocket of small lairs allows space for bonding without having to bring their young into the school area until they’re old enough to be taught the ways of dragons and people. I never knew how quick to temper the youngster are. Luckily, we have Elky with her Dragon Magic to shield us from inadvertent flame.

  “When do you think they’ll be able to sense their kizmeht riders? Do they know at this age?”

  “We’ll have to ask Dreyth since he’s the only one who lived during the time of the Dragon Riders School before these dragons. I’m sure it has something to do with when they’re strong enough to fly and bear weight. Otherwise it would drive them crazy—the wanting and longing.”

  Elky is like a mother hen over the hatchlings. I must admire her. There is something special about Elky. Ever since the time our village was burned down and she became blind, the Dragon Magic from her dragon Ustice has made her more dragon-like. Not in looks, no. It’s the way she’s always accepted by them, even the new dragons coming in. None of that changed when she regained her sight.

  She continues her animated questions, gesturing across the cavern. “I suppose that makes sense, but just look at them all! Have you ever seen so many colors and different kinds?”

  I laugh out loud, startling a nearby golden dragon with white feather plumes around his limbs.

  “It kind of happens that way when you take a look at all of the dragons that have been drawn to us. Really, I didn’t know what to expect when the school opened with the first pairings of dragons and riders.”

  I shake my head at the memory of how the wagons lined up below the Spires and of the maddening flights of dragons feeling their fated riders somewhere below them. Bursts of flight and flame when out of the Spires, they soared. The lifted heads of those gathered, seeing for the first time the dragons in flight. That was our first taste of when the dragons choose their riders en-mass. It seems like yesterday.

  “Seyra, you’re not shirking your fighting class with Hu’gan, are you?” Dreyth penetrates my mind with a rumbled chuckle.

  “It’s that time, already?” I know he knows I would do just about anything to get out of attending those training sessions. I mean, I know how to fight. I can just about take Grifton down even now, and that’s saying a lot since he is Hu’gan’s favorite student. Well, him and Belinda.

  “Since time has gotten away from you two, Ustice and I are on our way to bring you back. It is my understanding that Hu’gan is not pleased with late comers.”

  Okay, that was definitely a chuckle I heard. I shake my head and step through the onslaught of hatchlings crooning around Elky.

  “Dreyth and Ustice ar
e on the way. We need to get to the landing area and be ready. He says we’re going to be late for Hu’gan’s class.” I heave a sigh. “You would think we could be omitted from the class since we were the first riders,” I grumble.

  “I know. It’s not like the old days when we could train on our own.”

  “You mean five years ago?” I rub it in.

  With a hmpft she answers, “Exactly.”

  I hear Dreyth land as we rush to close the gap between us and the dragons. When my dragon is Brula’r, or as humans know him as King of the Dragons, there is no dodging expectations.

  Chapter 2

  We rush into the Armory to join the others already in formation. At the front line, of course, are the Warriors of Beljeem. I have no idea where this mysterious place is. I only know Hu’gan is the Seer of Beljeem, and brings us instruction from those who rode the fighting dragons far to our east, in lands we’ve never seen.

  Try as I might, I still haven’t mastered the levitation he teaches us. Grifton, Elky and Belinda are able to rise from the ground without noticeable effort as if they were a part of the original Warriors of Beljeem. Yet they in their rider leathers look far different from the Warriors.

  In front of me are the Beljeem Warriors, in outfits of shimmering black silk. Only Hu’gan wears the silken tunic with sleeves that billow beyond his elbows, where his warriors end theirs above the elbows. All wear vambraces of boiled leather with metal plate across their wrists and forearms. Again, Hu’gan differs slightly. His are custom made with the engraved image on the Ackchee dragon, the fighting dragons of his homeland. The warriors wear long complicated sashes woven with leather across their midriff cinched tight and accented with a belt of hammered silver metal beading draping their hips above and below. This culminates in the front of the sash with a large diamond shape medallion linking the beadwork together.

  Upon their legs are the flowing pants that are tucked inside leather boots unlike any that we have. I’m sure they are some form of leather but the soles have no heel. The bottoms are a thick leather material that is scored with deep grooves. I can only guess the design is to help them climbing and give them a secure landing as they leap from dragon to dragon. Hu’gan is in hopes of doubling his now twenty warriors. Those selected will also be fitted for the Beljeem Warrior attire. As much as I fancy their unusual dress, I’ll gladly stick to my rider leathers.

  Hu’gan is a hard taskmaster, but I’m learning much more on the proper usage of the Fighting Sticks. I think I’m getting better, thanks to the previous instruction I gleaned from Dreyth before Hu’gan joined us. I’m still not on par with his warriors. They move like lightning and are able to continue fighting as they rise into the air. I pray to the Moon and Stars we never go into a battle where I need to levitate and fight. It’s all I can manage to concentrate on my sword, my position on Dreyth and any instructions he rattles off in my brain.

  After the first hour of non-stop training, the sounds of leather and buckles clang against the granite floor. Sweat has soaked through my tunic and uncomfortably slithers down my neck, back and chest. Maybe there is something to the wearing of the light weight tunics the warriors wear. They don’t appear near as exhausted as I feel.

  Finally, with three sharp claps of Hu’gan’s hands, we are dismissed. Once I stop, I feel the heat surge up to my face. I can’t wait to get on dragon-back and ride the wind. I feel a smirk in my head.

  “At your service, my Sparrow.”

  He knows my heart crumbles when he uses my nickname. When he first called me sparrow, I mistakenly took offense thinking of the small bird. But with his explanation, it lodged into heart and bone. I was his small bird in flight. Not merely a human any longer but a creature of the air. My eyes tear upon reflection.

  He’s waiting at the ledge by the time I get there. His magnificent night-sky deep blue scales glisten in the sunlight. I kneel to heft the saddle upon his back and scramble up his side until I’m wedged comfortably tight in its grasp. Leaning forward, I rub his neck—our unspoken sign for flight.

  A leap into the void of mountain, we fall for a few precious heartbeats until Dreyth’s enormous wings push the air behind us. Every launch into flight is exhilarating as our heartbeats match one another and the confines of the limiting ground disappear. I am once again Sparrow, the bird in flight skimming the air from dragon-back. I am aware of my several braids flitting in the wind as the air wicks the moisture from my tunic. We swoop low over Phoenix to the cheers of those outside. The shouts from the townspeople bring more out of their homes. We make an unplanned stop to give the people a chance to gather close.

  One after another race into their abodes, bringing out gifts for us. For Dreyth, there are clay dragon sculptures, fists of shiny treasures as well as his favorite treats, the strawberries made into jams, cookies and a thick syrup that he adds to cooked meats—that is, when he slows down for a communal meal. The herbalist brings me salves, medicines and combination teas for most all ailments we dragon riders suffer. The small girls bring me cording and beads to weave into my hair and display their braids with the embellishments.

  The throng of people slowly split apart as the blacksmith, Erodz, lumbers forward, brow heavy with sweat. Behind his back, he pulls forward a massive gift—for Dreyth. I catch my breath, turning to look into Dreyth’s eyes. A deep rumbling permeates the air: the sound of deep happiness.

  “Brula’r Dreyth, it would please this man if you would accept this token of Phoenix’s highest esteem.”

  Dreyth lowers to the ground, elongating his neck. He allows Erodz to climb upon his limbs, dragging the massive adornment up to his neck. Hollowed silver links formed a chain attached to a large shield-shaped polished silver medallion engraved with the word, Dreyth. And below his name, it reads: Gift of the Spires. Erodz reads it to him once he’s safely on the ground again. He’s treated with a thunderous rumble and a wide-toothy grin.

  Placing the gifts into the saddlebag, I thank everyone for their kindness before we take to the air once more. I speak on behalf of Dreyth: “Even in the days of old, we were never treated with such admiration. It only brings my desire to a deeper level to protect and guard over these attentive people.”

  Then turning to Dreyth, I grin. “I’m sure you make yourself more approachable than you did long ago. Just from what I’ve learned as dragon and rider, the old ways were more separated than they are now.”

  His response feels kind. “We were respected, more from the fear of our power than anything else. I like this change.”

  “What’s not to like? The admiration of your subjects bringing gifts of glimmer and delight?” I laugh as I rub his neck.

  “You know me all too well. I have a compulsion to surround myself with all the glimmering, glittering things I can find. They warm my soul. As for the jam,” he rumbled, “it goes a long way to ease a difficult day.”

  “What is it about dragons that drive them to collect vast treasures?”

  “In truth? It was a way of us seeing our reflections in the shiny material the humans worked, but then it became a habit. An addiction you might even say. Some went as far as to say it is vanity. Not so, my Sparrow. It isn’t vanity to want to look upon the most powerful of all creations.”

  It struck me as funny but I pause for a moment and think about it. It is true. There isn’t another creature as powerful or as intelligent as the dragons.

  “Thank you. I knew you would come to that understanding.”

  Chapter 3

  Glancing up towards the Spires, I see Belinda and Sezalor streaming out of the cavern. The wind whips the feathers of the beautiful dragon. I wonder where they are heading?

  Dreyth answers. “They left word with Ustice and Elky. Belinda returns to her village. You realized her family didn’t move to Phoenix but stayed in their village?”

  “No.” I scratch my head trying to stir up the memory of her town.

  “It is one of the smaller villages we passed on our way to battle the day Kru
lem and those dragons he incited razed the village south of us. From what I understand, her father is in poor health and her mother didn’t want to risk moving him. By them remaining in their township, Belinda acts as a liaison. She can visit her parents and also listen to the locals to see if they have any concerns.”

  “That’s good, but I doubt she’ll hear any concerns. We have made sure to provide every village, no matter how small, not only food but protection.”

  Dreyth gives a small nod of his head, but doesn’t turn to look at me directly. It’s as if something has caught his eyes in the distance. “What is it, Dreyth? Do you see anything out there?”

  He rumbles his belly-fires, yet doesn’t respond.

  “Hey. Did you hear me?”

  “Yes, I did hear you. I don’t see anything, as you say, out there. I was remembering something Beokrull once said. He said, Peace is a fragile flower whose bloom soon perishes. Many seeds fall to grow peace, but there will also be seeds from sorrows fall. Be ever diligent to remove those wayward seeds. Perhaps, I worry too much, but you have to admit, it’s been blissful for several years.”

  “I hear what you’re saying. But remember too, there were hundreds of years of peace before Krulem ousted you as the Brula’r and started the battle.”

  I climb upon his back and wiggle into the saddle, ready to return to the Spires. Dreyth launches and catches the air, scattering currents behind us. Once inside, I uncinch the saddle and set it aside. Dreyth is still in a strange and ominous mood.

  “Not to worry, little Sparrow. Dragons have such a long history, some days the memories are strong from days long passed. I’m processing thoughts and ideas from the time with Beokrull. Lessons in the past prepare us for the future. Why don’t you enjoy the afternoon. I need to spend some time going over Beokrull’s scrolls.”

  Before I can think of anything to lift his spirits, he dodges away to the Chamber of Scrolls.

  I hear a chuckle and turn to see Ustice nudging Elky in her ribs as she cinches her saddle around him. I grin. Elky affects most people the same way, as if simply being near her you’re in a brighter light.