Dragon’s Call: Dystopian Fantasy

by Ann Gimpel

  Dragon’s Call

  Dystopian Fantasy

  Ann Gimpel

  Contents

  Dragon’s Call

  Book Description, Dragon’s Call

  Books in the Dragon Heir Series

  Author’s Note

  1. Chapter One, Rowan

  2. Chapter Two, Rowan

  3. Chapter Three, Bjorn

  4. Chapter Four, Rowan

  5. Chapter Five, Bjorn

  6. Chapter Six, Rowan

  7. Chapter Seven, Bjorn

  8. Chapter Eight, Rowan

  9. Chapter Nine, Bjorn

  10. Chapter Ten, Rowan

  11. Chapter Eleven, Bjorn

  12. Chapter Twelve, Rowan

  13. Chapter Thirteen, Bjorn

  14. Chapter Fourteen, Rowan

  15. Chapter Fifteen, Bjorn

  16. Chapter Sixteen, Rowan

  17. Chapter Seventeen, Bjorn

  18. Chapter Eighteen, Rowan

  19. Chapter Nineteen, Bjorn

  20. Chapter Twenty, Rowan

  Book Description, Dragon’s Blood

  Dragon’s Blood, Chapter One, Rowan

  About the Author

  Also by Ann Gimpel

  Dragon’s Call

  Dragon Heir, Book One

  A Dystopian Fantasy

  * * *

  By

  Ann Gimpel

  * * *

  Tumble off reality’s edge into myth, magic, and dragons

  Copyright Page

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © May 2019, Ann Gimpel

  Cover Art Copyright © May 2019, Covers by Julie

  Edited by: Kate Richards

  Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or people living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, e-mail, or web posting without written permission from the author.

  Book Description, Dragon’s Call

  After her Celtic kin proved too big a bunch of bastards to bother with, Rowan sought solace among witches.

  * * *

  The first book in a magic-laced, fast-paced fantasy trilogy. With dragons.

  * * *

  After the Breaking, not much was left. I assumed it was a case of magic gone bad—until I discovered my goddess mother had broken the world. She didn’t like it that I’d turned my back on the pantheon. My long tenure among witches rubbed salt into the wound.

  After a confrontation where Mommy Dearest fessed up—and lacked the decency to bat an eyelash about the widespread destruction she’d caused—I was digesting what to do next when a dragon showed up.

  Yes. A dragon.

  The beast didn’t talk with me or anything, but it flew overhead wreaking havoc on a goblin horde. Witches are old souls with kind hearts, but they’re not particularly strong magically, so I was grateful for the help.

  And suspicious as hell. Why a dragon? Why here and why now? More importantly, why was he—she?—helping me? Part of me didn’t want to know, and another part was certain I’d find out anyway.

  Books in the Dragon Heir Series

  Dragon’s Call, Book One

  Dragon’s Blood, Book Two

  Dragon’s Storm, Book Three

  Author’s Note

  If I seem to be on a dragon kick here, it began long ago. My first runaway bestselling trilogy, Earth Reclaimed, had dragons in it. So did my almost-as-successful Dragon Lore series. Dragons have made cameo appearances in other books as well.

  Well, maybe slightly more than cameos in the Ice Dragon series.

  Beyond dragons, I’ve had a lifelong love affair with both the Celtic and Norse pantheons. While writing one long-ago book, I swore no Celtic gods. Nope. Nary a one. Well, along about Chapter Five, who should come strolling out of the wasteland but Fionn MacCumhaill, Celtic god of creation, protection, knowledge, and divination.

  I gave up to my muse thereafter. She hasn’t led me astray yet.

  Welcome to another series that blends the Celtic and Norse pantheons. In my imagination, the deities all know one another. It was a pretty intimate circle filled with petty—and not so petty—squabbling. Add enough acts of unbelievable valor to keep things on an even keel, and the foundations of a story magically appear.

  Chapter One, Rowan

  I huddled deeper into a luxuriant clump of gorse bushes and drew my hood over my head to hide my bright hair. Thorns were a problem but a small enough price for protection. I’d tried, goddammit, but I hadn’t been quick enough reaching the cave I called home. Bugles from the Wild Hunt blared. Clanking chains, creaking saddle leather, and the whoops and cries of Odin and his contingent of long-dead faeries and warriors filled the air.

  An invisibility spell was a crapshoot. The Hunt smelled magic like hunting dogs scented prey. Hard to do nothing, but safety lay in holding my position, in barely breathing—until the Hunt had flown by.

  Not that they couldn’t return in a flash, but—

  “Rowan?” Tansy’s terrified voice exploded into my mind.

  Goddess blast it, so much for not drawing power. Telepathy didn’t take much, but still… “Hush.” I ground out the single word, hoping it would shut Tansy up.

  So few witches were left. Tansy might be the last of them. Barely thirteen, her moonblood had just begun to flow.

  Blood.

  I sucked in a breath sharp as glass scrapings. The one thing the Hunt would zero in on faster than magic was blood. They soared right above me now, blotting out half a moon and all the stars. The pungent stink of horse sweat and drunken men wafted down, and I silently urged them to keep on flying. So far, so good. The horses’ hooves churned air, finding purchase somehow. Hunger streamed from the ghost army.

  Hunger for warmth. For the living to feed on, so they could ride forever. As if to validate my thoughts, they broke into a rambling Norse drinking song, one I’d heard in the odd tavern or two back before the world broke.

  Best not to go there. If I do, I might cry. Once I begin, the tears will never stop. I’d cry so much, I’d become one with rivers raging through the Scottish Highlands. Not such a horrible outcome. Better than ending up fodder for the Hunt.

  Or the gargoyles or griffons or goblins or trolls. Wicked things that had grown so brazen, they showed up in daylight. No time was safe to be about. Not anymore. I closed my teeth over my lower lip hard enough to hurt, stopping shy of piercing my skin. Blood was a very bad idea with the Hunt overhead.

  A misplaced magical casting—and a very powerful one—had broken the balance point between bright and dark energy. At first, I’d been certain the witches could fix it, but I’d been wrong. Not that I’m exactly a witch, but I blend in better with them than anywhere else. Anyway, we wasted a whole lot of time and magic before we gave up. By then, survival hung by the barest of margins.

  The Hunt wheeled in the night sky, forming a circle. A fist squeezed around my heart until pain filled my chest. Caught. Odin knew we were below him. Fucker. Bastard. Saliva departed, leaving my mouth sandpaper dry.

  Everything slowed as I watched Tansy emerge from a magical shrouding.

  Hard to blame the girl. She must have been scared out of her wits, but she’d summoned magic. Between that and her blood, we’d had no chance of escaping notice. None at all.

  I pounded a fist into the damp dirt. No wonder the Hunt had stopped.

  Tansy rose unsteadily to her feet. She was dressed in the same motley coll
ection of rags all of us wore. Blonde hair streamed down her slight form, and her breath formed clouds of steam in the chill air. Since she’d already been discovered, she began to chant in a clear voice that only trembled a little.

  I knew the incantation, and the child’s courage seared me. It was a witch’s last-ditch attempt to save herself from death. My heart ached for Tansy, but I was proud of her too.

  The aerial ballet circled, coming closer to the ground with each pass. I could see them clearly now, skeletal fingers, eyes like burning coals. I smelled their charnel pit breath, and what little was in my stomach curdled into a sour knot.

  If I was going to act, my grace period had just expired. I had to make a move and do it now. Another few seconds, and the lead rider would latch onto Tansy. What they’d do to her would be worse than death.

  Far worse.

  A girl on the brink of womanhood would be passed from rider to rider in a never-ending circle of lust. Theirs, not hers.

  Cursing to give myself strength and project the illusion I was a total badass, I bolted to my feet and raced toward the clearing twenty meters away, stumbling over tangled roots.

  “Take me, instead, you bastards,” I screeched, shaking a fist at the riders.

  Tansy turned a startled expression my way, her green eyes rounded into small moons. “Aw crap, Rowan. You don’t need to—”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  I reached Tansy and looped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her shuddering form close as I warded us. My spell wouldn’t stand up to concerted battering from the Hunt, but it was the best I could do.

  “I—I’m sorry,” Tansy stuttered.

  “Be sorry later.” I narrowed my eyes, thinking. There had to be a way out of this.

  Who am I kidding? I just offered myself. It gives them permission to take me.

  Bile splashed the back of my throat. I swallowed it down. I refused to puke in front of Odin and his ilk. I’d stand proud, and I vowed I wouldn’t show distress. Not in front of this batch of rotters.

  “Let the girl leave.” I squared my shoulders and looked Odin right in the eye, no easy task since his fiery one-eyed gaze seared my corneas until I feared I’d be blind afterward.

  “Aye, and is this a bargain freely requested and freely given?” he boomed in heavily accented English.

  Tansy clutched at my arm. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll go. I’m the one who was stupid. I’m who—”

  I rounded on her. “Shut up.” Tansy’s eyes filled with tears. I felt like a shit-ass. What I wanted was to drag her into my arms and comfort her, but comfort wasn’t part of the new world order.

  Hadn’t been part of any world order I remembered. No one had ever offered me solace. Rolling my mental eyes, I shut off my pity party. Yeah. Life was a bitch. So what? Suck it up and keep on keeping on.

  Tansy trembled where she leaned against me. I switched to shielded telepathy, hoping Odin and his merry crew wouldn’t pick up on it. “I may have a chance of returning, child. They’ll eat you up alive.”

  I stood so straight my spine cracked in protest. Before Odin had to ask me again, I said, “Yes. It’s a bargain freely requested and freely given. So long as you allow the child free passage.”

  Whoops and cheers rose from the riders. A slimy creeping sensation wracked my body. What would they do to me? Would I have enough cunning to escape? Magic wouldn’t be enough. I’d need luck, timing, courage. And a plan.

  At the moment, I had nary a one of those four pesky items.

  One of the horsemen angled his steed my way, dropping lower. I held up a hand, palm outward, and strengthened the ward around myself and Tansy. “Not so fast. The girl goes free. I would see her safely out of here.”

  “Ye’re a lying, conniving slut,” Odin sneered. His eight-legged steed, Sleipnir, pawed the air a few meters above my head.

  “I resent that. I’m a witch, and I live and die by my word. I shall meet you back here in one hour, but you must leave between now and then. I do not want you privy to where we live.”

  I tossed my head, and my hood fell back. Oops. I wasn’t all that recognizable—not after all the crap I’d lived through—but Odin was sharp as a fox. It would look bad if I made a grab for my cape, so I ignored it. Careful to enunciate each word clearly, I asked, “Do we have a bargain or no?”

  Breath steamed from Odin, and he extended an arm, index finger pointing dead center at my chest. “I know that hair. Whose get are ye?”

  “No one’s.” I slipped a knife from a sheath that hung from my waist and let the blade hover across my open palm. “Deal or no? I shall seal it with my blood.” I avoided holding my breath, or looking too anxious. If the specter of my blood didn’t move things along, nothing would.

  Damn if Odin hadn’t picked up on a resemblance. I remembered him visiting Mother occasionally. Him and those damned ravens of his. Not too many had hair like ours. Curly, shining red with golden streaks, it highlighted our golden eyes. I hooded mine and sprinkled a pinch of obfuscation into my warding. Normally, I employed a glamour, but magic wasn’t limitless.

  Mother had been gone from Earth since just after the Breaking. Time and chaos might have faded Odin’s memories of her. Maybe

  Tansy edged behind me and tried to jerk my hood back into place, except she wasn’t tall enough. Good move on her part for a couple of reasons. If it had worked, she’d have tucked my hair back under cover. More importantly, though, any additional space between her and danger would help if Odin decided he wasn’t up for bargaining with me. If that happened, I’d scream at Tansy to run, and then I’d hold my ground, offering what resistance I could as the Hunt swooped down on me.

  I expelled a tight breath and waited. I’d done all I could, and the ball had left my court. My unusual hair fairly sang Ceridwen’s name, but I downplayed that part of my bloodlines.

  More than downplayed. I hid everything but my hair and had done so long enough it had become second nature. Turning my back on a hopelessly patriarchal pantheon, I’d done my damnedest to blend in with witchdom. My unusual locks hadn’t posed a problem since no one remembered what any of the Celtic pantheon looked like. No one living anyway, which counted Odin out.

  Not that he was dead, but he rode with the dead. It was kind of the same thing.

  He angled his head to one side, eying me speculatively through his fog-colored eye. His dark hair was braided close to his head. Bone showed through the lower part of his face, skeletal bits with whiskers still growing out of them.

  At least he’d stopped nattering on about who I was and where I’d come from.

  I waited, my mouth dry and my chest so constricted I had to remind myself to breathe. Time dripped past. The other Huntsmen were growing restless, throwing taunts and graphic descriptions about what they’d do to me once I was in their clutches.

  Some were still lobbying for Tansy. Virgin’s blood, and all that crap.

  I wanted to slice their dicks off, but this wasn’t the place to let my temper loose. I was strong, but not against so many.

  “Well?” I raised one brow, resisting the temptation to tap a foot. Now that I’d picked a path, I had a handle on my fear. All that remained would be to see how my gambit played out. Would Odin let Tansy and me leave? Or would we duke it out right here? Launch a fight certain to alert every magic wielder within a twenty-league radius. Not that the Hunt wasn’t likely to prevail, but it wouldn’t be the easy pickings I was offering, nor without losses to Odin’s skanky tribe.

  He chopped his extended arm downward and bellowed, “Go,” adding “Raus hier,” for good measure.

  Outraged howls rose from the other Huntsmen. Odin swung the mace and flail looped around one wrist, narrowly missing his steed. The spiked ball connected with the skull of one of his men, cleaving it amid the sickening sounds of rotten bones crunching as they splintered to dust. The unfortunate target cantered off into the night, headless but still screeching. Odin took off after him with the rest of the Hunt scattered
behind.

  This wasn’t a time to tarry. I hooked a hand beneath Tansy’s arm and dragged her into a shambling trot. “Hustle up.”

  “You can let go. Goddess’s tits, he beheaded his own man.” A trill signaling the beginnings of hysteria burst from Tansy.

  “Breathe,” I suggested. “Nice deep breaths and don’t think about this. Any of it.”

  “But we won. You don’t have to go. He didn’t take your blood oath.” Relief laced through Tansy’s words.

  I tucked the knife still clutched in one hand back into its sheath. “Oath or no, I gave my word.”

  “Pfft. To a thief, a murderer, a soul-stealer. None of the—”

  “Silence!”

  I didn’t slow until we stood within the entrance to the first cavern. Not many buildings had survived the Breaking. Caves were a better bet, but some of them were unstable. Ours was an extensive system dug deep into the southern flanks of Ben Nevis. From the looks of paintings on its stone walls, it had been here since the beginnings of time. Built and reinforced with magic, it should last through the ages, Breaking or no.

  So far, I’d been right about that.

  I stepped in front of Tansy, blocking her way, and draped a ward around us, so no one would overhear. “You owe me for tonight, yet the boon I request is small.”