Burn (Dragon Souls) (39 page)

“
Please
.” The Dragon Lord’s breathless screech filled with dread. “
My wife
–”

“Will die quickly. That mercy is for her sake alone.” Koen glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were cold fire. It was the Dragon’s growl they heard when he rumbled, “I do not hear her dying.”

Sounding a warrior cry that drowned the sound of Galina’s scream, Anastasia brought the
katana
down.

Releasing his prisoner, Koen shifted into
dragonskin
.

Artur’s body blazed light as he was freed. His purple Dragon cowered in the vast shadow of a Phoenix.

The male barely wore his scales before his head flew crown over snout into the crowd with a spray of blood.

Flames razed his corpse to smouldering ash.

Koen’s horned head thrashed, and the subvocal roar wrenched from his soul rocked the world. His wings snapped open to beat wildly, casting an ominous shadow, scattering the swarm of people fighting to traverse the hostile terrain as it shook in a tumult.

A subterranean rumble rose to a deafening crescendo, and a sharp drop in air pressure preceded an eerie deadness of sound.

The Dragon Lords stilled. They became statues in the heaving mass of bodies. They gazed up in expectation of a natural splendour the most feral of their kind felt an inexplicable draw to.

A sinister cloudburst of smoke and brimstone blotted the sky as an ash plume mushroomed over the horizon.

Thunder rolled and lightning struck the jagged mountain peak.

The volcano erupted.

It spewed a vertical cascade of lava, a luminous rust-orange beacon in the cinder-flecked gloom.

Droves of wild ones soared hazardously close to the viscous waterfall of liquid rock. Their ear-splitting screeches fell silent as one by one they closed their iridescent wings and plummeted towards the spitting crater, inescapably drawn to the heat.

A hail of magma orbs came screaming down the mountain.

The great black Dragon raged in the midst of chaos, his roars anguished cries that cursed the world.

Arms flung wide, the Regent commanded the crows to hasten their disperse.

Children were snatched up to avoid being trampled. Dragon Lords shifted, grabbing loved ones in their claws. Shrieking and caterwauling they took to the blackening skies. Attendants ran as Dragon Men hurried them back towards the fortress.

It was the fleeing purple Dragons that drew Koen’s ire.

Inhaling until his chest burned brightly, he spat shards of ice at their departing forms.

Let them run
, he thought.
Tonight I hunt.

“
Dragon King
.” As weaker males fled, Myron held his ground. His snowy beard fluttered in the currents of air stirred up by the mass exodus in flight. “Do not do this.”

Angling his snout to peer at the voice of reason beating back misery’s shade, Koen growled warningly. He
wanted
the numbing blackness of oblivion.

“Bestow mercy upon them.”

‘
Mercy
?’ His beast soul raged. ‘
Houses Ja and Tyr are poison
.’

“Attack blindly and innocents will suffer. Think. Marina would never condone this.”

The silence was fraught with pain.

Flurries of ash covered the bedrock in a filigreed layer of grey, turning it into a forlorn moonscape. Air to breathe was thick and sweltering. The pungent stench of burnt sulphur choked it.

“Come back to the Citadel. Mourn with those who loved her.” Myron’s ancient face creased in pain, grief-stricken. “This will not go unpunished. I vow those responsible will be discovered.”

‘My wrath will not be denied.’
Koen shut his eyes. His sides heaved in vast undulations, and ridged claws restlessly shifted. Flexed. They craved the rending of flesh. There was no forgiveness inside him. None. His booming voice resonated as poignantly as the everlasting sadness in his eyes when they pried open. ‘
There is no body. I cannot hold her one last time
.
Gaze upon my Treasure in her last glory.’
His voice broke. ‘
She is ash
.’

Feeling power gather behind him, his horned head turned to stare over his spinal crest.

Daniil, Jakob and Mikhail headed the horde amassed at his back. Unblinking. Deathly cold. Transformed into powerful Dragon form, gleaming fangs bared, furious roars exploded from the throats of the impassioned warriors. Smoke and frost heated then chilled the air, adding to the spine-tingling fluctuations in temperature. The ranks of Dragons were enraged, bristling and snarling anger, ready to annihilate the perfidious Houses they once honoured as they did their own.

It surprised and saddened him so many of the hides glistened in shades of blue and silver.

All Wyvrae but for one bronze hide.

The fire breathers had run.

Koen wondered how he had been blinded to the true nature of the Drackai.

It had become known throughout the Dragon Lands Marina set her sights on the Ice Wreath. The Wyvrae had embraced her. They admired her tenacity, her unwavering strength in the face of overwhelming odds, a plight they related to on the deepest level.

Her death at the hands of treacherous fire breathers infuriated them.

Daniil’s presence shocked him.

The Drackai Queen’s muscular thighs wrapped around his serpentine neck were less a revelation.

Anastasia’s face was expressionless, yet her eyes remained alight with the fires of vengeance.

Her bloody
katana
rested unsheathed on her thigh.

Already the weapon had severed the life of a betrayer.

In the end, as Koen had looked into Galina’s eyes, he’d known hatred. A true and everlasting hatred, something he never believed himself conceivable of feeling.

Beneath his fingers she had been soft and vital. Alive. Her warm, minted breath brushed his skin, and her green eyes had been filled with regret.
Regret.
As if she had the right to sit before him feeling
anything.
That she still drew breath while his beloved was lost to a fiery grave caused a rapacious fury to devour his soul from within.

Bitterness eroded the loyalty he felt towards the others of his kind, decimated the strictures of honour he’d based his life upon.

Hovering in that endless moment of darkness, he stalked the boundaries of evil insanity.

How close he came to breaking.

Koen had known if he took her life there would be no going back. A monster would inhabit his body. His rampage would destroy the male Marina had loved.

With his heart breaking, his mind locked in a piercing roar yet to abate, Koen Raad had remembered the grace of his lost mate’s soul, and turned from darkness.

Oh, the blackness tainted him. He would not rest until the bloodlines of Ja and Tyr were wiped from existence, but it would be done the proper way – executions – by an army that would eradicate the bastards.

Captain Vadik stood at the claws of his overlord. He solemnly nodded, hawk like gaze scanning the fleeing crowds.

Lord Ryu dismissed the human, trusting him with instructions to protect his distressed heir.

Tail curled around a foreleg, Viktor sat trembling in his juvenile
dragonskin
. Tears wet his adolescent snout.

“Please.” Regent Myron once again claimed Koen’s attention. Eyes wild, he resorted to begging to diffuse the coming implosion. “More death will not ease your suffering. It will not bring her back.” He took a brave step, arms outstretched, beseeching. “Do not do this.”

‘It is done.’

T
he creature wakened.
Um
,
ouch?
Its first clear thought was an incredulous whisper that ended on a hiss of pain. She tried to move, and her legs cramped. Somehow, she knew her four limbs had never walked before, never borne her heavy weight.

She wriggled her way from the hot sludge rushing past her hide, and flumped onto the smouldering bank of the lava reservoir. She tried to stand, but could only find enough energy to limply stir her tail in the hot gloop.

She lay there for a while, whimpering, confused.

Where am I?

The Dragoness couldn’t recall why she’d gone swimming, or how she’d gotten here. She remembered being angry because her back was vulnerable to an enemy, and she sensed betrayal....

A growl rumbled up her throat, and her maw cracked to bare her fangs.

Why that skinny ginger bitch.

The Dragoness tried again to rise, her mind fixed on tearing the betrayer limb from limb, setting her on fire then dousing her in a blizzard of ice shards, when another thought pierced the rage.

How did she defeat me?

Triangular, horned head tilting, she stilled, stumped.

Her memory showed a thin two-legged creature. The Dragoness knew the human female was mighty, but no match for her
dragonskin
.

Her snout dropped and she nosed a flaming globule of sulphur sliding down her fore claw.

The Dragoness felt bone deep shame to be bested by one so scrawny.

Why did she defeat me? Am I not powerful and strong? How will my mate ever look upon me without wondering if the other female is better?

Rather than fall into a bout of self-pity, the thought made her stiffen. She chased it down and pounced, pinning it.

A vision of sleek, tanned male flesh, and slanted green eyes alive with desire. Killer smile. Rough, possessive hands gripping moonstone flesh.

My mate is two-legged as well as Dragon.

She focused and burrowed deeper into the recesses of her mind.

I am not usually like this, am I?

She vaguely recalled looking down her body and seeing fleshy swells, a swathe of flat skin, upper limbs ending in splayed stars, and rounded flanks that connected to longer lower limbs.

Her mind recoiled.

Determined to get to the bottom of this, she narrowed her focus and the memories became clearer.

Aver. The quest. The scale.
Koen Raad
. Aver!

Marina Zar pushed her forelegs straight and angled her head to stare down at the paws tipped with shiny black claws in disbelief
.

Well, hell. There’s no explaining this away.

Her mind held the thought then skipped beyond it.

Oh, shit. How long have I been missing?

During a quest the only thing that would keep a First Chosen from finishing was death.

They must think I’m dead. If Koen Raad thinks I’m dead....

Dread struck fear into her new, vastly great heart. She struggled to move.

Good grief, my ass must weigh a ton.

The black Dragon raged. His fury snaked through the halls, wiping away tapestries and priceless heirlooms in a flare of numinous flame. The searing heat melted the stone foundations into molten slag. Chunks of clay and slate dropped from above to smash into the lacquered floor. Intricately carved pillars burned to charcoal bricks. Hungry blue-black smoke lapped at the painted ceilings with ravenous fervour.

Blurs of sliver, sapphire and cobalt clashed with streaks of mauve, amethyst and violet.

Battling with primal wrath, Mikhail rolled past, locked in a vicious brawl with a purple-scaled Dragon.

The Dragon Lord oath-sworn to House Tyr had burnished gold horns he used to effect, thrashing his head and gouging the Council Mon’s hide.

On the other side of the burning antechamber, Daniil’s serpentine body whipped around. His pointed tail lashed out to slice the throat of a dark lavender-coloured Dragon clawing at his sides.

Silver eyes swivelling wildly, Jakob slinked past.

A group of soot-faced terrified younglings were sheltered under his leathery wings. He snarled in warning as another Dragon with pearl scales took a swipe at them. Urging them on, he snapped his fangs and hissed protectively as he led them to safety.

Treasure would be proud of him.

Pain knifed his heart, and the black Dragon turned away from human thought to submerge himself in primitive instinct.

Yet for all his mindless frenzy the black Dragon let Jakob and the younglings escape into the inky safety of night.

Babies could be spared.

Only the tainted need be cleansed with fire.

A fleeing Lady wrapped in velvet tripped over the rubble and debris. She tumbled over with a piercing cry, scattering the armful of possessions she’d clutched to her chest.

Lurching from her ungainly sprawl, she started frantically gathering the expensive trinkets.

The black Dragon stalked the female.

Head bent, she was engrossed in her things rather than her vulnerable back.

He lifted a fore claw, brought it over her head then down in front of her, crushing the charms she coveted enough to risk her life. He had yet to come across a female, and despite his vow to obliterate those of Tyr and Ja blood, the Dragon felt no urge to harm the woman.

Trembling violently, she slowly lifted her hooded head.

He slinked around so they were nose to snout.

“King Raad,” she whispered.

Tears welled and overflowed from bitter chocolate eyes. Age lined her face, deep grooves around her mouth and wrinkling her forehead.

Deathly pale, her mouth hung open. Her eyes seemed too large for her face, the orbs glassy with terror.

“S-s-sorry,” stammered hoarsely.

The female slithered forward and prostrated herself, cowl falling back to reveal glossy chestnut hair, and a slender throat enclosed with a thick gold choker. Her jade pendant slipped from concealment.

The symbol of House Tyr dangled from a leather chain.

“Galina wa-was wrong. My h-husband.... A-Artur never m-meant.... H-he never s-said–”

Fury obliterated coherent thought. A memory wreathed in pain blotted out the light.

“Your females too, Artur Tyr. All of them are dead because of you.”

The woman screamed, rearing back to shield her face, blinded by an emerald glare piercing through the firestorm.

Viktor watched his Sire fly in the midst of greatness.

Vadik leaned against his hide, and murmured soothing things in his ear. He shrugged his mentor away, and shuffled into a corner to hide his shameful tears.