Dragon of Eriden - The Complete Collection

by Samantha Jacobey

  Feeling stronger, Amicia transpositioned herself to the gnome village easily. Looking around at the empty trees and stones anxiously, her fingers moved to her mop of disheveled hair. I guess I could have cleaned up a little.

  Adjusting her torn wizard’s robe so it covered her new scar a little better, she slid a tentative foot forward to have a look around.

  “Hello? Thirac?” she called loudly.

  An odd silence met her, as if even the birds and bugs had forgotten to breathe. Her eyes roaming, she turned in a slow circle. The moisture dripped from the branches and leaves, the occasional plop of it hitting the dark damp earth the only noise she could decipher. Shuddering at the eerie reception, she refused to give up.

  “Yimath? Ziyath? Mizath?”

  She had gone through every gnome name she knew but one. Sevoassi. But the gnomes had denied knowledge of him.

  “Sevoassi?” she dared, her voice quavering when she spoke it.

  “I told you that name is not recognized here,” Thirac scolded.

  Spinning to face his warning, Amicia gasped down at the gnome before her. Reminding her of the day he had come out of the woods to more or less greet them, his hood covered his head and draped over him. His hands folded against his chest, the sleeves fell back just enough to give her a peek at his tiny hands.

  “You said you didn’t know him,” she corrected.

  “Same thing,” he chirped, using the pudgy digits to remove his covering. His dark black hair and beady eyes exposed, he glared at her. “I told your friends our aid has ended. Perhaps they neglected to inform you.”

  “I wasn’t here,” she agreed. “I was detained,” she added, her fingers brushing her hidden shoulder absently. “As far as your aid, I only require one more thing from you, and I will never ask for another.”

  “You require,” he sniveled. “You may be heir to the throne of Eriden, but you are entitled to nothing in the marshlands.”

  Deciding to soften her approach, she knelt before him so that their height nearly matched. “Thirac, I do not know what has happened or why you have had this change of heart –”

  “You took the ossci on a massacre,” he shouted, cutting her off.

  “I…” she stammered, recalling the attack on the wolves. “I asked them to go so we could test our new weapons and shields.”

  “You killed two magnificent creatures for a test?” he accused, his eyes narrowed into slits.

  “No,” she blinked, searching for the right words. “They had been after the trolls, and we feared they would move against us when we entered the forest.” She justified their actions, her heart pounding with fear and regret.

  “So, you plotted against them and set a trap.”

  Staring at him, she curled her tongue, losing patience quickly. “I really don’t feel the need to defend our choices to you,” she replied, her voice growing loudly vengeful.

  “Obviously you do,” he stated calmly, opening an empty palm to indicate her knees in the dirt.

  Standing abruptly, she dusted at them angrily. “Listen, Thirac. The elves have been defeated on the dwarf mountain, and Rhong is safe, but another garrison marches on Whitefair. We must be moved to the oasis as quickly and as soon as possible to prepare for the attack.”

  “Then go,” he mocked.

  “We need you to move us. You said all of the gnomes have the capabilities of the ossci, and that means all of your people can transposition over the land of Eriden,” she pushed.

  His eyes narrowed, giving her pause.

  When he said nothing, she added, “It would take a single trip in my estimation. Your people come and take a few and go. Drop us in Whitefair, and then they can get back to whatever it is they are doing.”

  “Most of the village is not here,” he spat.

  “Not here,” she breathed, her eyes again roving over the emptiness around them. “Where have they gone? Why?”

  “That is not your concern,” he snapped.

  “Look, Thirac,” she almost shouted, “we do not have time to debate this issue. What is it that you want in return? You want me to beg?” she asked, her bottom lip trembling. She wasn’t above groveling; she had done it before. “Just tell me what you want.”

  “All we have ever wanted was to be left alone,” he sighed with a large nod.

  “To be left alone,” she mocked. “Thirac, you are part of Eriden, as much as any other creature who lives here. The elves –”

  “Are not our concern,” he silenced her words once more.

  “Thirac,” a small voice followed his interjection, freezing him in place if he had intended to say more. Pivoting slowly, he stopped to glare at Yimath, who stood almost hidden by the shadow of the trees. Coming in behind her, Happy and Grumpy also appeared.

  A wave of joy flooding her senses, Amicia exhaled loudly but held her tongue. Clasping her hands together, she wrapped her fingers and pressed the palms together, as if it would help her hold her excitement to silence. Pressing the sides against her lips to suppress her joy, she breathed against her chilled flesh and waited.

  “We wish to return to the mortals,” the tiny blonde said more loudly.

  “It is forbidden,” the older gnome gasped.

  “Then we will accept our exile,” Yimath agreed.

  “Ossci in exile,” their leader grunted. “Why would you choose this?”

  “Our princess is correct,” Mizath informed him, stepping forward and entering the light of the clearing. “Many days we have worked with them, side by side in their efforts. We do not feel compelled to abandon them in their hour of need.”

  “I knew I should never have allowed you to mingle with them,” the king growled.

  “What is done is done,” Yimath soothed. “Allow us to help in the battle that comes. Surely you can agree that Cilithrand’s hand across the land would be unfortunate.”

  Eyeing Ami with his dark orbs, Thirac considered the plea. “You have one day. When the sun sets tomorrow, if you are not back within the forest of Falconmarsh, you will be banished from it forever.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” the gnome squealed, turning to clasp the hands of her two friends before they disappeared.

  “Where did they go?” Ami whispered, surprised by her sudden turn of luck.

  “To do as you requested,” Thirac snapped. “We might as well mourn their removal now,” he added, showing her his back and ambling between the trees.

  Dragon’s Flight

  “Ok, we have transportation, we should get moving,” Amicia announced as soon as she materialized on the mountain, her hand flat to indicate the ossci.

  “Three?” Piers asked doubtfully, pinching his lower lip as he studied them. They had gathered the troops, to an extent, preparing for her return, but at the moment, they were standing around waiting for help they apparently would not receive.

  “We will be able to carry you,” Yimath assured. “To where are we going?”

  “Whitefair, of course,” Ami stated firmly.

  A stiff silence followed, and Meena pointed out, “The wizards probably are unaware of the pending attack. What is to say they will welcome our arrival or support?”

  “Ok, then I’ll go ahead of us and speak with the leader there,” Amicia sighed.

  “You look like a wild woman,” Reynard laughed, indicating her current condition, then shook his head. “I doubt he will hear your words.”

  Her lip forming a pout, the girl crossed her arms over her chest and grunted, “Then what would you have me do?”

  “Let’s slow down and form a real plan,” the Mate suggested, his stopping motion indicating the need for calm. Turning to the gnomes, he asked, “When you say you can carry us, how long will it take?”

  His eyes scanning the men, Ziyath frowned in his grumpy way as he observed, “I dare say two trips, three at most. We can each transport fifty easily. Perhaps more if we pushed it.”

  “Fifty,” Meena gasped. “I can hardly scrape a dozen if I dare.”


  “We’ve had a few more years of practice,” Mizath grinned.

  “Then the transport will not be the issue,” Piers continued. “So, unless we want to move to the rocks outside of town and wait, which would be plain silly in my opinion, we should have a rest and a meal the best we can.”

  “We need to know the location of my kin,” Animir added. “How long before they are in a position to strike.”

  “Agreed,” the Mate nodded. “Perhaps the dragons can fly for us and keep watch. You are able to converse with each of them,” he observed, raising his chin at Ami. “They can keep you apprised.”

  “Yes,” she nodded, her head clearer as her adrenaline settled. “This is a good plan. I’ll change into my second clothes and make myself presentable before I speak to…” She stopped short, perplexed. “I don’t know who the leader of the wizards is. We never met him.”

  “Actually, Piers did,” Meena informed him. “Gradien, or Gray as he is known. He organizes the market where we reclaimed the siren as he receives a cut of all that passes through Whitefair.”

  “You mean that bald asshole who threatened to have us arrested?” Rey shouted.

  “The same,” the older woman sighed. “He is called the magistrate, and he takes care of the city ensuring what safety and security there is to be had.”

  “Plunders it, more like,” the Mate scowled. “Must we save them?”

  “Yes,” Ami countered. “Their resources are too great to allow them to fall into the hands of the elves. We will go there and speak to him. We will convince him somehow that they must join our cause. Then, we will formulate our plans for defending the city and wiping out the elves.”

  Holding up the empty hamar gem, Animir shook his head. “We won’t be able to repeat the battle plan from last night. The dark elf and her minions fought bravely, true to their word, but she chose to be destroyed by the light rather than return to her prison. We won’t be able to use her again.”

  Taking the empty crystal from him, Ami studied it, a lump forming in her gut. “She gave up her life to help us.”

  “It wasn’t much of a life,” Piers sneered. “Trapped in that thing all the time.”

  “Still, it was a sacrifice,” the girl insisted, turning it so it caught the light and shined brightly. Shoving it in her pocket, she mused, “We’ll think of something. For now, we’ll eat, rest and get a report on the elves. Lamwen, will you and my father see to what’s going on in the desert?”

  “Certainly, my lady,” the dragon bowed.

  “I am familiar to the wizards,” Ziradon added. “I will make the flight to Whitefair and prepare for your arrival to negotiate our cause.”

  “Very well then,” the girl agreed, raising her chin with confidence. “We all have our chores, and we will meet back here in five hours to assess our progress.”

  “Here, love,” Rey offered, her brush in hand, “let me tend your hair. We can wash it and the rest of you before you don your clean clothes.”

  “I’ll warm a pot of water,” Meena suggested, setting the fire.

  “I can take care of our supper,” Zae added. “The gnomes’ fireplace and kettle are still inside their tree.”

  “Thank you,” Ami agreed, casting a quick glance between them. “You are all very kind to care for me so.” Noting their tense features, she added, “I’m curious as to the long faces, though.”

  “We were worried about you,” Rey replied, pushing her to sit on the stone while he removed the clumps from her hair. Using the water, he cleansed it, the way he had the morning she awoke in the first mate’s bed on the Sea Serpent.

  “I was fine,” she lied. Holding her slouched body stiffly, she allowed him to tend to her, but guilt ate at her gut.

  Catching the quiver in her voice, he replied, “You don’t look fine. You are covered in scrapes and bruises, and this scar speaks of a nasty wound. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I have,” Meena spoke up, cutting her eyes over at the girl as she busied herself preparing her clothes. “Piers has a similar scar upon his chest. A deep hole healed by magical means.” She feared the girl had been close to death, pulled back from the brink of it by a powerful hand, and her unwillingness to share the details only added to her ominous absence.

  Tracing the pink pucker with an extended digit, Rey asked, “Did you heal yourself? Who did this to you?”

  “I did not, as I was unconscious,” the girl whispered. “The wounds were inflicted by Uscan.”

  “Uscan,” Rey grunted, clenching his teeth. “You went to the Shadowlands.” He ceased his coddling and knelt beside her. Cutting his eyes up at her, he waited for to explain herself.

  “Yes,” she clipped. “I had to see if he had also aligned himself with the enemy.” She kept her gaze on the fire, purposely avoiding his angry glare.

  “And I suppose asking telepathically wasn’t good enough,” her husband growled.

  “No. I needed to see face to face where he stood.” Her features placid, she appeared tired. “I probably should have taken a few of you with me,” she confessed.

  “You don’t say,” Rey muttered, not taken to browbeating her with hindsight. “But that still doesn’t tell us who healed the wound.”

  “Ziradon,” Ami speculated flatly. “If it matches the one I healed on Piers, it stands to reason it was accomplished by a dragon. He was the only one there.”

  Nodding, Meena and Rey shared a glance, and he shrugged, “It sounds reasonable, don’t you think?”

  “Reasonable,” the older woman also scrunched her shoulders. She had her doubts about the old sovereign’s abilities reaching such a level but voicing those concerns would be unwise. Instead, she offered the warmed water. “We can strip these torn items off of you. I’ll give them a wash while you help her to bathe.”

  “Aye,” Rey agreed as he got to his feet. Helping Ami to stand and slip out of the garments, he let the interrogation end with the explanation she had given.

  When her sticky flesh had all been cleansed, she slid her legs into the familiar pants; the ones that had belonged to Bally. Pulling the shirt on, the small gaps at the shoulders exposed only a peek at her new scar. Her fingers toying with the edge, she sighed loudly.

  “Are you in pain?” Rey asked, his voice filled with concern.

  “I’m fine,” she countered, cutting her green orbs up at him. Taken with his tenderness, she added, “I should speak of my love for you while I can.”

  “Afraid you are going to die?” he teased, only half joking.

  “I fear I won’t get another chance,” she moaned. “I do love you, Reynard Daye. I do not regret a single day of my life with you.” Catching his hands, she stopped their motion and forced him to face her.

  Staring into her emerald pools of light, he nodded, “And I you, Amicia. But you must forgive me if I am not ready to voice my goodbye.”

  “Then do not voice it,” she agreed, her smile spreading over her lips. “Only know that my days as your bride have been happy. No matter what comes, I would not change the life we shared.”

  An uncomfortable silence followed, as Zaendra presented their meal. Placing the bowls on the table, she asked, “Will the others be joining us? I made enough for all.”

  “Pop up to the mountain and check on our progress,” Amicia suggested, her gaze still locked with Rey’s.

  As soon as she disappeared, he dropped his mouth to hers, enjoying the taste of her and hoping it would not be his last.

  Rain of Fire

  “Good luck, my king,” Lamwen called as he leapt into the air. Flying south, he would swoop across and trace the path of the elven forces to assess their progress.

  Watching him go, Ziradon considered the other dragon and his loyalty to the crown. You have been a faithful subject, Lamwen, captain of the king’s guard. He could not predict what would be the outcome of their struggle, even with the recovery of his daughter. The path before them dark and unsettled, he only knew they must make every effort to preserve
the kingdom and hold it from the hands of the elves.

  Satisfied with their plan, he also took to the air, headed west to Whitefair, where an audience with the magistrate awaited. He was familiar with the position, but since the wizards were a rough lot, he did not figure he had met the current one. Not that I made any effort to know any of them well during my reign. He had never cared for wizards any more than he held a deep regard for elves and would have considered the trolls more to his liking if he were to call any such creatures friends.

  Staying low and following the rise and fall of the mountains, he searched the ground for any other nasty surprises the group would have to contend with. The terrain below almost exclusively wilderness, those who resided in the open mountains were mainly lesser beings; fairies, fauns and the like. A hearty bunch, as the winters there were long and harsh, they did not organize themselves into fixed communities, mostly keeping to mobile packs, herds, or family groups at best.

  Spying a few such gatherings, his chest swelled with hope. His only child and heir to his throne understood the importance of even these, and she would protect them to the best of her ability. Thinking of her and the dragon that had flown to the south, he knew they would be the right pair to rule the Kingdom of Eriden, if Lamwen were to be her choice in the end. I suspect that he will be, given what they shared when he walked beside her as a mortal.

  Realizing his thoughts had strayed, Ziradon quickly reined in his focus, as they had more pressing concerns. Dreaming of the future will have to wait. Returning to their battle plans, he recalled what he knew of the wizards, and hoped they would have a sufficient number within the walls of the oasis to augment their depleted numbers. Even if the ossci were to help bring their troops in full, there would likely not be enough to defeat the forces he had seen gathered on the edge of the sand and pouring across it as they moved towards the unsuspecting city.

  Finding nothing out of the ordinary along the way, he soon arrived at the ancient walls. Floating in on a hot wind as the sun scorched the ground and sand-sculpted structures, he landed on the eastern barrier, not far from where the group had scaled it with the aid of Humphray and his associate. His view partially blocked by the dwellings below, those who could see him appeared unimpressed with his arrival.