Ascension (Dragon Diaries, Volume One)
Copyright © 2019 by Selena IR Drake
Excerpt from Culmination copyright © 2019 by Selena IR Drake
All rights reserved.
Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher.
The “fiction dragon” logo is a trademark of Drake Books & Media.
Book design copyright © 2019 by Drake Books & Media
Cover design by Selena IR Drake
Author photo by Robert Berry.
Drake Books & Media
901 62nd Avenue NE, Suite B, Minot, ND 58703
Visit us online at www.DrakeBooksMedia.com
Published in the United States of America
First published: October 2013
ASIN: B07W4D3KHV
ISBN: 978-1-312-83341-8
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
The views and opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of Drake Books & Media.
Other books by Selena IR Drake
Dragon Diaries
Ascension
Culmination
The Return of the Dragon Keepers
The AEON Files
The Archfiend Artifact
The Lycan Pharaoh
The Lullaby Shriek
The Bone Prophet
WEIRD Chronicles
Episode One
Learn more at sirdwrites.com
To my mom, dad, and brother – Thank you for all your help and support through the many years I spent writing.
To my friends and muses, Matt G. and Sabrina S. – Thank you for the many inspirations and good times.
To the late Anne McCaffrey – Thank you for the dream.
It is within the deepest, darkest recesses of our minds that we discover the hidden truths about ourselves and our potential.
– FROM “CONVERSATIONS WITH AMOREZ” BY DJURDAK ZA’CAR
I was cold in the deep of this night. My breath was loud in my ears, almost deafening in the constricting silence. Clouds billowed out through clenched teeth and hung in the air as if waiting to be snatched away by the twisted forest that surrounded me. The ancient, leaf-bare trees were the color of freshly fallen snow. They crowded together, bent and twisted and gnarled. Hideous and monstrous shapes looming in the brooding shadows. Their appearance could birth fear in even the bravest of warriors. From misshapen root to barren and tangled canopy, the trees glimmered. It was as if they were lanterns, each aglow with ghostly light from a strange and internal source. A silver mist danced like ghosts between the tangled trunks. It covered everything in a fine layer of sweat and shrouded the dangers of the dirt path before me. Though no moon was out to direct my trek through the dreary depths of these woods, the ghost-light of the trees helped to guide my groping steps on the uneven ground.
I trudged along; the mist roiling like fire in my wake. The moist air was thick with the scent of earth and a dour spice that I could not name. The soggy ground absorbed the sound of my footsteps. The dampness seeped into my tunic and leggings. The black, Fey-weave clothing was like ice against my skin. It left me longing for a thick cloak and a warm fire, neither of which I had access to here. I plodded on. My determination to escape the forest outweighing my discomfort. Yet no matter which way I turned, the same trees seemed to surround me. Tears of frustration stung at my eyes, threatening to fall. My vision blurred, and I tripped over an exposed tree root. I crashed to the soggy ground with a cry. I lay there a moment, clearing my head and wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.
A stirring in the trees not far off made my breath catch and my hackles rise. I became aware of a presence drawing nearer. Uncertain of its intentions, I quickly pushed myself to my feet and was off again. I dared to move faster over the irregular terrain. The trees seemed to reach out to me, clutching at my hair and sable clothing. Perhaps they desired to hold me prisoner for the one rapidly closing in.
There was a fluttering of wings right behind me and I did not dare to look back. Had the tangled mess of roots and branches not formed such a hazardous route, I would have sprinted in order to escape the beast. The screech of an eagle pierced the night, and all I could think was: There were no eagles here. Then the creature in pursuit fell back, called out again. I rushed onwards, focusing on the careful placement of my steps. There was a whoosh of air that reminded me of a giant fire igniting, then a red-orange light sent the shadows of night skittering away. A moment later the fiery light faded slightly, moving away. I watched out of the corner of my eye as a glowing ball of fire moved to my left, darting and dodging passed tree after tree. It rapidly gained speed and with another screech, turned right sharply.
The creature wove a path between the trees just in front of me and a spectral echo whispered, “Tabiki ni heile.”
In an instant the creature’s snaking course through the forest was alight with crimson flames. Unable to stop in time, I threw my arms up over my face and dove through the wall of fire. There was half a heartbeat when, suspended in midair, I felt the flames lapping at my skin as if they wanted to devour me. The instant I was free of their grasp, I tucked myself into a ball and hit the ground with a rolling somersault. Back on my feet, I paused briefly, observed the dancing inferno. There was no heat from this fire. In fact, it was as cool as the air around me. Perplexed, I slowly reached out. My fingers caressed the tongues of the leaping flames. Feeling no bite, I reached further and let my hand bathe in the heatless inferno.
The sound of wings fluttering returned much louder than before and a gentle heat permeated the bone-chilling air. I forgot the fire in an instant and whirled around only to find myself facing the glowing creature. I did not move. Nor did I breathe. I just stared at the beast before me, utterly afraid. It must have realized how fearful I was of it, for it cooed softly and slowly backed away.
A gnarled branch creaked as the creature settled upon it. The red-orange light around the beast began to fade much as a fire would die down to embers. With the fiery glow melting away, the inferno at my back vanished into memory along with it. At last I could see the creature. It was a bird; the same shape as a hawk, but nearly thrice the size as any I had ever seen. Its beak was hooked and golden and its eyes were as blue as the sea. Red and orange and yellow feathers shimmered across its body like heat waves on desert sand. Its tail was longer than my arm, and tipped in purple and blue.
A phoenix, I marveled.
The firebird studied me with its glowing, cerulean eyes. It was a long, tense moment, in which neither of us moved. Then the bird opened its golden beak.
“Esté imlít lerra rité mertuác jidó. Arx et cólaz ni Kohnbenai rahn…”
The spectral whisper continued for several more verses, emanating from the phoenix. I hung on every word, trying in vain to translate the message. The words were as foreign to me as a fish in the desert. I did not understand a word of what the phoenix said but sensed it was somehow important. When at last the whispered verses were swallowed by silence, I began to speak—to ask the meaning of those cryptic words. Before I had uttered even a single sound, the firebird screeched and vanished in a blast of searing hot flames.
In a flash the world around me changed completely. Night became day. Dark became light. Cold became hot.
I found myself standing alone amid mountainous dunes of sand as red as blood. A few scattered rocks of black basalt littered the ground like gravestones. The sky overhead was deep violet despite the twin suns fixed at thei
r zenith. Their heat combined to scorch the land laid bare beneath them. There was no foliage. No drop of water. No lick of wind. No whisper of sound. This whole land was dead and deserted; a crypt. Yet my senses were screaming at me, warning of something out there, waiting. The sea of red sand and black gravel seemed to scream of an evil presence lingering in this space. It was as if an angry spirit had been trapped here for untold eons, feeding on its own lust for revenge against whoever locked it away.
A soft growl was the only warning I had before an enormous spear struck the sand half a heartbeat after I threw myself out of range. I hastened over a dune and pivoted on the balls of my feet to face my attacker head-on only to be dismayed at the sight before me. It was not a spear that had been used against me; it was a spade.
The head of the weapon was half again as tall as I was, jet black, and edged with what looked to be bone as sharp as any sword. It fed into a rope-like tail that was as thick as the oldest spider palm trees. It was covered in needle-like spines and jet black scales that seemed to absorb all the light around it. And the tail was attached to a fearsome, onyx and crimson beast. It was taller than a mansion, and standing boldly on four enormous feet that were armed with talons longer than I was tall. A pair of torn, bat-like wings – held aloft and wide to give the beast an even more fierce appearance – sprouted from its shoulders. A long neck gave way to a wedge-shaped head where long, ivory horns swept backwards over a spiny frill that had evolved to protect the beast’s neck and throat. More horns, smaller, yet sharper, grew along the beasts snout and lower jaws and a ridge of bone guarded its amber eyes. My breath was stolen by the mix of evil and absolute hatred in the beast’s hardened gaze.
I gawked at the monster, and all I could think was: I am going to die here.
The enormous, sable and scarlet beast angrily yanked its tail spade free of the sand, sending up a cloud of dust. It flexed the individual blades, testing them like a seamstress would her scissors. It took a step towards me and…
…A loud chorus of bells suddenly rang out.
She knew not how she had come to find herself at that holy place, nor could she recall anything prior to her waking.
– FROM “THE SECOND KEEPER” BY THERA ONYX
I erupted from the tangled bed sheets, gasping for breath. Tendrils of my hair clung to my face and neck. Sweat dotted my brow and dared to run down my cheek. It was… It was a dream, I told myself, just a dream.
With each resounding boom of the bells, I replayed the dream in my mind. I wanted to commit it to memory it before it faded into nothingness.
The twisted and ghostly forest…
The heatless inferno…
The phoenix…
The unknown language…
That monster in the desert…
It all felt familiar. Yet when I tried to remember where or when I had come across that language, that strange forest, or those creatures I realized that I knew nothing of myself or my past. I did not even know my name or my age, nor did I have any clue about where I was.
The last bong seemed to last forever as it faded into silence. At last, I cast my gaze about the room I found myself in. It was narrow, but long and housed over a dozen small beds. Each bed was adorned with plain, green and white sheets. At their feet sat wooden lockboxes with iron hinges and filigree flowers. Soft green curtains affixed to free-moving metal frames provided the individual beds with a modicum of privacy. The floor was a grid of contrasting tan mud tiles while the walls were white stone blocks polished so smooth they shined. There were three unmarked wooden doors; one of which was on the wall farthest from where I lay while the other two were side-by-side just meters away. The ceiling was high, and a quartet of matching, large chandeliers had been spaced at equal intervals throughout the room. Windows with stained glass accents allowed light to spill into the room.
Beyond the glass, I could see a trio of stark white obelisks piercing the early morning sky like apparitions. Standards of violet and black barely woke in a soft breeze. The light of the twin suns barely broke the horizon, casting an ethereal glow in the deep cobalt sky. This glow reflected off the white marble of the obelisks, turning them jewel-like. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and yet the ghost of a memory told me that I had been here before.
But where is here? I asked myself. I knew the name, yet it eluded me like a word teetering on the tip of the tongue. Then another question arose to plague me: How did I get here?
A loud bong suddenly tore through the silence. It made me jump in fright and lose my train of thought. More bells began to ring out with the first, marrying their various tones in a sepulchral chorus. All I could think about was how terrible their melody was for this beautiful morning. In their resounding echoes, a new sound emerged. This one signaled movement, and lots of it.
I tossed the covers aside and left the warmth of the bed. The cold of the stone floor on my bare feet made me grimace and shiver. I quickly but quietly slunk to the closest window and peered out. A courtyard lay far below the window, and countless people of various ages spilled out over the stone slabs. Everyone in the courtyard appeared to be in a hurry as they converged on a location I could not see from my viewpoint. They were all dressed similarly, with soft gray tunics hidden beneath violet vests and flowing, black robes. The boys wore black slacks while the girls had pleated, black skirts that settled at their knees. Black, skin tight leggings kept their legs warm against the morning chill. Some of the elders in the rush wore violet stoles edged in silver ribbon. The vestments bore a pentacle; the sigil of the priesthood.
One girl stood out from the rest. Not because she wore the boys’ slacks or crossed the yard at a more leisurely pace, but because she was about half a meter taller than everyone else. Her hair was deep amethyst in color, and tied back in several tight braids. The end of each braid was bejeweled with small, colorful beads. A pair of painted feathers was affixed by her left ear. Her face was more angular, with high cheekbones and a dainty nose. Even her ears were different; longer and ending in a point instead of rounded. It was plain to see that she was nothing like her companions.
There was a soft rattling, like a key in a lock, to my left. I looked over my shoulder in just as one of the two doors along the wall was pulled open. In the doorway stood a man who appeared to have no more than thirty years on him. His hair was dark auburn and long, kept out of his face by a small and neat tail that left most of his hair free. His eyes were the same green as the crescent sigil on his simple, cream smock. He was a Healer.
And he smiled warmly upon seeing me by the window. “I am delighted to finally see you up and about. How do you feel?”
“Confused,” I admitted as I turned away from the window. The Healer nodded. I motioned around the room, “What is this place?”
“You are in the Healers’ Wing of the Temple of Five Souls.”
That was the name that had eluded me earlier – the Temple of Five Souls. I thought. Aloud I said, “How did I get here?”
The Healer stared at me for a minute, a soft frown tugging at the corners of his lips. “We’re not sure,” he said at last, and moved into the room. I watched as he went to the wooden lockbox that sat at the foot of the bed I had occupied. He unlocked it with a small key hidden within the folds of his smock. Finally, he turned to me and gestured towards the lockbox. “One of our third-year students, Ríhan, discovered you washed up on shore during an outing. He and a classmate immediately brought you here. This was all you had in your possession at the time.”
I crossed the cold mud tiles and peered into the box. Laid neatly within it was a worn, leather satchel with frayed embroidery on the front, some copper and silver bits the size of my thumbnail, a pair of strange bars the length of my forearm that had begun to rust, and a tattered, old book with a title I could not read. Everything was alien to me, like it belonged to someone else. All of it… save the book.
Despite knowing nothing about it or its author, I somehow knew that that book was the most important thing i
n that lockbox. The brown leather wrapping had aged, turning great portions of it almost black. The runes embossed into the hide were barely legible from the wear and tear of what might have been centuries. I picked it up, untied the leather lacing that kept it closed. The pages within were thick parchment, jagged and uneven along the edges. Runes similar to those on the cover filled the pages. I yearned to read the stories they spoke of, but I could not recall how to translate them. Intricate sketches inked by a deft hand appeared throughout and I wondered, Was I the artist?
“Curious thing, that,” said the Healer with a wry smile. “Practically everything you had on you was ruined by your time in the water. Everything,” he paused to point at the book in my hands, “except that.”
He is right, I realized as I looked the book over again. There are no signs of water ever touching it.
“Might I ask you something?”
I nodded as I sealed the book and retied the lace.
“How did you come to be in the Eastern Ocean?”
I could only shrug. “I do not recall anything prior to waking this morn.”
The frown on the Healer’s lips grew deeper. “You do not remember your name? Your home? Your life?”
I shook my head negative upon each query.
The chorus of bells rang out for a third time that morning.
I grimaced at their song. “What is it with that dismal annoyance?”
“The bells?”
I nodded.
“They sound at specified intervals in order to keep students and staff on schedule throughout the day. Another toning is played to sound a death, and a third is played to sound a warning of danger either by weather or by invasion, which is a useless concern here; no one would attack this Temple.”
Ascension Page 1
