Dragon Kin: Sapphire & Lotus Read online

  Dragon Kin

  Sapphire & Lotus

  Shae Geary

  Audrey Faye

  Fireweed Publishing

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  It Has Begun

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Interlude

  Eating Dirt

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Interlude

  Stars & Destiny

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Thank You

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2016 Shae Geary & Audrey Faye

  www.audreyfayewrites.com

  Dedication

  To those who write the books we read.

  Prologue

  Even a hollow victory was better than defeat.

  Lovissa turned her back on the roar and din of dragons rejoicing in the valley below and headed into the dim dark of her cave, seeking comfort—it had been a long, hard battle. The elves were getting dauntingly aggressive, and far more organized. If the fiercely independent elf clans ever truly bowed their heads to one leader, Dragonveld would fall, as surely as night would come.

  Leadership was the only advantage dragonkind had left.

  She listened as a roar mightier than the others nearly shook the sky. Baraken, telling the tale of his bravery and might. He had displayed both magnificently today, a warrior in his prime, defending his homeland, just as it should be.

  Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones who claimed the plains and caves of the Veld as home. And while one elf might be puny and no more bothersome than a biting insect, enough of them could take down even the most ferocious dragon. They had hurt far too many today in their hailstorm of arrows and magic.

  Lovissa reached the back room of her cave, pausing a moment to soak in the stillness. The smell of roasted meat hung in the air, and strawberries. She had a particular weakness for the sweet red fruits, and the young dragons charged with her care and feeding took pleasure in providing them. Or so she hoped—in her day, serving the queen had been a high honor.

  So much had changed since she was a young dragonet.

  She turned herself around, feeling her scales brush against the soft furs that lined her nest. Cushioning for her tired bones and sore muscles, which would have to be enough. There was nothing that could make a soft landing for the heaviness in her heart. They had lost two warriors today. Dancing, happy Eleret, and angry, vengeful Kynan.

  Kynan had brought about his own doom, flying headfirst into the mouth of the elven attack. A suicide mission if ever she’d seen one. Lovissa had known it would come—he had lost his beloved in the battle of midwinter, and had waited only long enough to know where his sacrifice might matter most.

  He had taken a lot of elves to the Summerworld with him.

  Lovissa curled her tail up and let her head rest on its dusty scales. Here she could shed a tear, for Kynan and for too many who had come before him. And several more tears for bright Eleret, who had been a particular favorite. Young yet, for a warrior, and headstrong. In another time, she would have been a dragon bard, composing ballads of valor and honor and glory.

  Instead, she had tried to live them. Tried to give the dragons one more year in the Veld. And perhaps she had succeeded. The passes would close soon, winter storms keeping the elves tucked away by their clan hearths until the snowmelt came.

  It was enough to make even a dragon wish for eternal snow.

  Lovissa closed her eyes in the dark warmth of her room. Eleret’s cheeky, flamboyant death must not be in vain. It was time for the queen to ready herself. To do the one thing that only she could do. Tonight, on the eve of their biggest victory in a year, she must take steps to prevent their final defeat.

  Because it was coming. She felt it in every one of her old and very cranky bones.

  * * *

  Lovissa landed on the stone ledge with a thunk that would have thoroughly embarrassed her in her warrior days. Now, as an aging queen, she could only be grateful she’d made the landing at all. She preened a little in the starlight, knowing not a soul was watching—not any that were still alive, anyhow.

  Her eyes sought out the Dragon Star, hanging low tonight on the west horizon. Growing tired, just as she was.

  She huffed a light flame out nostrils that were still puffing from the flight to get here, and scanned the sky one last time, making sure no over-eager babysitters had disobeyed her strict directive to stay home. The warriors knew better than to defy their queen, but some of the younglings had chicken bones for brains and more energy than they knew what to do with.

  Hopefully, Baraken would keep them busy cleaning up the mess he’d made of the northern end of Dragonveld—a just penance for having lost his temper with the last of the fleeing elves. A dragon warrior could be fierce, but they should never be foolish. A few days with the younglings ought to remind him of that.

  Just as this night would remind her that she was no longer young.

  Lovissa turned slowly to face the sweeping expanse of rock behind her, and the mouth of the cave that was the most sacred place in all the Veld.

  It was here that the ashes of their former queens rested.

  Speaking the ashes was not a task undertaken lightly. Lovissa had come here only twice before in her reign, once to mix in the ashes of the newly departed queen, and once on a matter of sharp urgency and great loss.

  As was this one.

  She did not tarry on the ledge—the night grew cold, and the warm comforts of cave and kindred beckoned her old bones. She would come here for her final rest soon enough.

  But not tonight. Tonight, she would ask the ashes what must be done so that Dragonveld would not be lost.

  She walked slowly, regally, into the enormous cave, never taking her eyes off the shallow bowl in its very center. The bowl was enormous, the work of the finest dragon artisans. Formed from precious metals, encrusted with jewels and runes and the secret signs of kindred history, it would have enthralled most dragons with its otherworldly, eternal beauty.

  Not Lovissa. She had eyes only for the plain gray ash gently mounded in the bowl’s center.

  Her head felt light and heavy at the same time. All the wisdom of all the queens, rendered by fire into its purest form. She bowed her head, the ridges of her nostrils mere inches from the bowl’s edge. Hoping they found her question worthy.

  Hoping they found her worthy.

  She knew not to linger. Dragon queens had many virtues, but patience wasn’t one of them. It was a foolish dragon who made a queen wait, even a dead one.

  Gently, she blew fire onto the ashes, letting it run down the sides of the mound and curl back up the edges of the bowl. Runes lit and jewels sparkled, offering a silent dance as she formulated her question. ::Dragonveld is in danger. What must I do to make it safe?::

  For a long moment, nothing happened, and Lovissa began to believe that she had come in vain.

  Perhaps she was not worthy.

  Perhaps her question had no answer.

  Then the surface of the ashes rippled, and she slid back, feeling the light-and-heavy feeling in her head again. The queens would answer.

  It took several moments longer, the top layer of ashes swirling l
ike a dragonet chasing its tail.

  And then the ashes began to rise, and in the dust, a dragon began to form.

  Lovissa held her breath as the ashes shaped into the form, ghostly and beautiful, of Temar, the first dragon queen of memory. She was an enormous green dragon with glistening scales and claws as wide as they were long. A fierce warrior, and an even fiercer voice for peace and prosperity. Temar had established Dragonveld and begun the long journey of their kindred from nomadic beasts eking out lives on the edge of the world to what they were now.

  Lovissa shivered under Temar’s ghostly gaze. She did not want to be the queen who reigned over the end of days.

  The ghostly shape of the oldest queen came to settle beside her. ::You have asked the wrong question, daughter. But we will answer the one you meant to ask.:: She held up a regal claw as Lovissa prepared to speak. ::Say nothing. Only watch.:: She turned and blew ghostly fire on the ashes.

  It took Lovissa a long moment to realize the trembling she felt was inside her own skin. She took a long, deep breath and mimicked Temar’s stern pose.

  They watched together as the next queens rose. Elegant Citrin, and then tiny Alfalia—the smallest queen ever, and one of the most fondly remembered. Then came the pearly scales of Oberon, and Timosa with her kind eyes and spiky, ridged tail.

  Lovissa named the dragon queens in her mind as they formed from the ashes, honoring each who had come before her, searching their gazes for wisdom she might take with her when she left.

  Her eyes blurred as rosy scales formed, the ashes shaping into the glorious wings and sharp nasal ridges of the queen whose death had begun Lovissa’s reign. She imagined she saw empathy in those eyes, and Arisen’s typical lack of patience for anything that didn’t involve fighting, hunting, or convincing one of her subjects to part with some of their treasure.

  Arisen had been a renowned warrior, and an even more renowned coveter of shiny things. It had taken Lovissa most of a year to empty the queen’s caves enough so that she could properly turn around in them.

  Arisen’s ghostly form came to sit at Lovissa’s other shoulder. ::You must watch carefully daughter. Now, and as you return to cave and home. Do not see only the shiny things. The survival of dragonkind depends on the cunning of your eyes.::

  That was a terrifying message from any queen, but this one in particular. Lovissa felt her insides trembling again, shaking her soul at its very foundations. Arisen leaned forward and flamed the ashes.

  Lovissa tried to squelch the urge to scrunch her eyes shut like the tiniest dragonet.

  She would watch, and she would know.

  One heartbeat. Two. Five. A shivering breath and a moment of terror—and then the ashes began to form again. This time, Lovissa did not know the name of the queen with the ice-blue scales, or the story of her reign, or the lands over which she gazed. She knew only that she gazed on a queen to come.

  Her heart began to beat again.

  She would not be the last.

  Deep blue eyes watched her silently—and then great wings spread, blocking half the stars in the sky. ::I will be called Fendellen. See with my eyes now. Dragonveld is in grave danger. But salvation comes, if dragonkind can be wise enough to see it, and be brave enough to embrace it.::

  The ashes began to move again, fast, swirling shapes this time. And over the head of the ice-blue dragon queen, five shapes formed in the night sky.

  Five dragons—and with them, riding on their backs, were five elves.

  Fire hissed from Lovissa’s nostrils. ::That cannot be.::

  The ashes didn’t waver.

  Lovissa knew better than to challenge the collective wisdom of the dragon queens again, but every scale of her massive body resisted what she was seeing.

  ::Look clearly, daughter.::

  She didn’t have to look to see who had spoken. The reverberations inside her head made that clear. They all had. Every dragon queen speaking together with one message.

  ::The five will come. You must be ready.::

  Part I

  It Has Begun

  Chapter 1

  Sisters were horrible, nasty creatures who should be taken to the edge of the world and thrown off.

  Sapphire sighed. She already missed hers, all seven of them. Even if they’d teased her so much about her silly offering for the Moonwater Festival that she’d finally thrown all her precious possessions in a small rucksack and headed for the hills.

  Or in this case, the forest, because apparently she’d managed to go the wrong direction, and there weren’t any hills this way at all.

  Which wasn’t helping her already wounded self-esteem any. She was a reasonably competent elf, but when you were the youngest daughter of Moon Clan’s ruling family, you were supposed to be special. Blindingly so, and every one of her seven sisters had been born with talents practically oozing out of them.

  Then Sapphire had shown up, the strange child who loved the daytime hours and showed no signs at all of being remotely noticeable for anything other than her tendency to lose slippers practically before they’d made it onto her feet.

  A boring elf in a family of bright moonbeams.

  Which is why she’d had no idea what to make for her festival offering, and why she’d been sitting forlornly surrounded by small pebbles and feathers and flower petals and shiny things, wishing desperately for a moment of inspiration, when her sisters had landed. All seven of them, awash with their own brilliance and the added spark of Orion Featherdust’s poem, which he had sent in an attempt to woo Adrial’s attention.

  If there was an elf under the age of forty who wasn’t trying to woo Adrial, Sapphire didn’t know who they were.

  Which had just made her pathetic attempts to create a festival offering that someone might actually notice that much worse. Sapphire had fled to the sounds of tinkling laughter and the shame in her own heart.

  This many hours later, she was finally willing to admit that she’d been at least as foolish as her fluttering sisters. There wasn’t exactly anything noble in running for the hills with two days’ worth of food, a pocket full of shiny pebbles, and no idea what you planned to do next.

  She’d probably end up in one of Orion’s poems. He had a sharp wit and an even sharper eye. And while he’d occasionally been kind enough to notice that Sapphire existed, she was pretty sure he’d happily trade in their limited goodwill for unlimited comedic potential.

  The embarrassment would have no end.

  Unless, of course, she managed to sulk her lost way into some actual trouble. The possibility of that was growing bigger by the minute.

  Sapphire looked up at the moon and felt her hands tremble. It was very dark, very cold, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into her soft bedroll of goose-feather down and pretend today had been a dream. But there was no point in wishing for things that weren’t going to happen. Even her cousin Edric knew that, and he was only four. Moon Clan elves were realists underneath all their sparkle and shine, and she had inherited that much, even if she couldn’t do anything worthy of a moonbeam. Her bedroll was far away, she had the poorest night vision of anyone in her clan, and even her bones were feeling the chill now. It was time to find a place to sleep.

  She looked around, wishing she’d paid a lot more attention during Grandfather’s woodcraft classes. He would know exactly how to sleep in the darkest of nights, safe and unafraid. Sadly, the only parts she remembered very well were the scary bits. If it looked like a cozy sleeping hollow, it probably was. For someone—or something—else. She shuddered. The last thing she wanted was to wake up face-to-face with a creature of the forest night.

  She kept walking, turning her head at every sound. This far from home, the noises were all different. They sounded foreign to her ears, and a little sinister.

  A twig snapped and she jumped sideways, and then had to scramble for her footing as twisty roots tangled around her feet.

  Make that a lot sinister.

  Sapphire exhaled, her breath harsh and lo
ud even to her own ears. And then she felt a laugh slip from her lips. She wasn’t actually a creature from one of Orion’s poems, and she was probably scaring something else in the forest with her stumblings. She needed to stop creeping around like a scaredy-elf and figure out how to stay warm and dry for the night.

  Squinting into the dark shadows, she looked for something that might be a trail, or at least a small clearing. The trees seemed a little less dense off to the left. Carefully, walking from one small patch of moonlight to the next, she made her way up a small rise and smiled. She could almost see her feet now.

  Then something crunched underfoot, almost the same sound as when she’d stepped on her brother’s kite. Sapphire winced and bent down to see what had broken. Under her soft leather moccasin was a sea-green shard, almost translucent in the moonlight. She stood up, cradling it in her hands, and held it up where the moon’s rays were brightest. She’d taken care of the clan’s chickens enough to know it was an egg shard, but it was like nothing she’d ever seen. Even in the weak, cool light of the moon, the piece of shell nearly glowed. The inside was smooth under her fingers, just like an oyster shell. The outside was gritty, almost like sand. Cracks ran through from where she’d stepped on it.

  Sapphire didn’t want to let the beautiful shard go. She crouched and looked around, seeking the rest of the shell and any sign of what might have hatched out of it. This was probably like Grandfather’s tales of soft lairs and something she should be afraid of, but she simply couldn’t find it in her heart to fear something this beautiful.

  Snippets of some of Grandfather’s more interesting lessons slid into her mind. The lore of the peoples of the world, and the creatures that shared their hills and forests. The ancient faeries and the newer humans. The tiny sprites and the glorious dragons.