Embers at Galdrilene

  Praise for

  Embers at galdrilene

  “...a great and entertaining read.

  A must if you are a dragon lover..”

  - Annamaria Bazzi, reader -

  ...an absolute wonderful read.

  The characters are well-defined and drive the story...”

  - Jennifer Donohoe, reader -

  ... Ms. Trosper has opened up the possibility of

  recreating a new Dragon-rider centric

  community, and I look forward to the next installment.

  - Richard King, reader -

  ...the words on the page almost come

  alive in her telling of her tale.

  - B. Wilder, reader -

  Cover design by

  A.D. Trosper and Blue Harvest Creative

  Interior book design, eBook design,

  map design and editing by

  Blue Harvest Creative

  www.blueharvestcreative.com

  Embers at galdrilene

  Copyright © 2012 A.D. Trosper

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. 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 or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Silver Spirit Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-0615730950

  ISBN-10: 0615730957

  Visit the author at:

  www.facebook.com/adtrosper

  www.twitter.com/adtrosper

  www.adtrosper.wordpress.com

  For Wayne, the love of my life. Always and forever.

  Acknowledgements

  My thanks to my wonderful husband.

  Without your encouragement, Embers would

  never have come to be. For putting up with me

  through writing and edits, insanity and

  lack of dinners. You are the best.

  To my children, you are the light of life,

  thank you for being you, and putting up

  with me when I’m writing.

  To my mother, for your support, for reading every

  single draft, for being my sounding board,

  and for hounding me for new chapters.

  To my father, for reading it cover to cover

  even though it’s not a genre you like and

  giving me an honest and constructive critique.

  I’m beyond fortunate to have such a

  supportive and wonderful family around me.

  Thank you, Shanna and Michael,

  for your support and encouragement at the

  beginning of my writing journey and for

  giving me some character and place names.

  Thank you, Clare, for all of the wonderful

  help getting this published in the beginning.

  Thank you to my wonderful critters

  at Critique Circle, you helped me grow

  as a writer, showed me where things

  didn’t quite make sense, and taught me

  how to bring more depth to the story and

  characters. Your suggestions were invaluable.

  And last, but certainly not least, a huge thank you

  to Blue Harvest Creative, for taking this book and

  forming it into the polished and beautiful book

  that it was always meant to be. Thank you for

  all of the endless hours and late

  nights you put into Embers.

  The light of a single candle flickered across Emallya’s features. Unconscious, she alternated between raging fevers and sweat soaked shivers. The Healing mages could do nothing, not for this. Bardeck sat and dipped a cloth in a basin of cool water. Gently, he wiped away the perspiration beading on her brow. For two days, since they found her broken body lying next to her dragon on the battlefield, he had watched her fight for survival.

  The memory of Rylin, her beautiful silver scales blackened by shadow fire and covered in blood, brought a lump to his throat. Rylin was dead. Bardeck watched tears leak from the corners of Emallya’s closed eyes. He longed to see those violet eyes open, yet it terrified him. He dreaded the shattered look he would see in them. He knew the tearing pain the loss of her dragon would cause.

  By the Fates, he had seen enough riders go through Separation during the course of this war. Most didn’t survive the pain of being unbound, and the utter desolation, when their dragon was ripped from them. Even in Emallya’s unconscious state, pain pulsed in her. He felt it in himself, through her and through his own dragon, who grieved the loss of his mate.

  He tensed as she stirred restlessly. He already pulled as much of the pain from her as he could. He felt Mernoth ready to block him from pulling enough to harm himself. As much as he wanted to spare Emallya, he understood. Separation was even harder on a dragon.

  Would he lose her, as so many others had been lost? Bardeck knew only too well the pain of losing a bondmate. Ilyana, and her dragon, had been dead almost a year. He and Emallya still felt the ache of her loss. Now Rylin was dead and Emallya teetered on the threshold. His heart clenched. How much more could he and Mernoth take?

  She bolted upright in the bed, her eyes wide and glazed. Leaping from his seat, he grasped her hand. She sucked in a ragged breath, her voice sounded harsh and otherworldly when the words began to flow from her mouth. “The last shall be fought and both sides will lose. Blood and fire will mark the ruins. A ray of light, a stain of shadow, will endure to breathe life and death into the future. The fire will perish, yet embers shall return to answer the call.” Her eyes were filled with the horror of her vision as she stared off into another time and place. Her breath left in a rush and she collapsed in a heap.

  Pain was hers. It writhed through her body and flowed in her blood. Slowly, Emallya climbed out of the dark fog shrouding her mind. The liquid fire in her veins made her thoughts confused and hazy. She knew. Knew to the depths of her being that her dragon was dead. Her Rylin. Gone. Forever. How would she live without her?

  The closer she got to the surface, the more intense the pain became. She wanted to retreat back into the darkness, but the life still pulsing in her veins wouldn’t let her. She shivered violently in reaction to the first wave of Separation. She lay helpless as the pain convulsed her body.

  Time passed, how much she didn’t know and didn’t care. Minutes, hours, days...the eternity it felt like? Her muscles still quivered in the aftermath. There would be more, she had seen it enough times and tried to help those who went through it. Now she knew why they eventually chose to give in to it and follow their dragons.

  She opened her eyes. Darkness greeted her. Good, maybe I am dead. No, surely there is not this much pain in death. Where am I? Where is Bardeck? She started to reach for him and stopped at the sharp pain that stabbed at her head. Cool hands touched her forehead and face.

  A dim light sprang to life, revealing the haggard face of a woman. Emallya struggled to remember her. Mari. The woman’s name was Mari and she was a mage from the Tower of Light. Why was a gold here? Why not a yellow or Bardeck? Slowly, her mind focused. She took in Mari’s disheveled hair, red rimmed eyes and the fresh tear streaks in the grime on her face.

  Emallya pushed herself into a sitting position. “Mari,” her voice was nothing more than a whisper in her dry throat. “What happened to you? Where is Bardeck?”

  Mari didn’t answer. Instead, she poured water into a cup and offered it to Emallya. She accepted it
gratefully and took a long drink, the cool water sliding down her parched throat. When the cup was empty, Emallya looked at the other woman again. Beyond the dirt and mess of hair, Mari’s gold robes were torn and singed as if she had been in the path of a young Fire mage.

  Emallya leaned forward. In the dim light, Mari’s eyes were haunted. “Mari, tell me what happened.”

  Mari stared back without speaking. Emallya felt pain and confusion rolling off the other woman. She reached for Mari’s mind, intending to find out for herself what happened, but the magic weave shattered on a thousand shards of pain. She should have known better than to try and touch her power this close to Separation. Gritting her teeth she bore through it, her body and soul reminded of the loss by the touch of power. The second wave rolled over her.

  When it was over, she climbed unsteadily to her feet. Wiping at the tears that ran unchecked, she looked down at herself, half expecting to see blood running in rivers. There was none. There wouldn’t be. The wounds Separation made ran much deeper than skin and muscle. Still shaking, she looked around her. She was in the Hatching Chamber. A small table stood against the wall under the dim glow of an orb. A book lay on the table. No, not a book. A journal. Bardeck’s journal. It was open to the pages in the back and covered in dust.

  Mari spoke for the first time, her voice barely above a whisper, “He wanted you to find it. He wanted you to read it. I didn’t know…I didn’t know where to go. So I came here.”

  “Why is he not here to tell me himself?” Emallya asked. Bardeck wasn’t there in her mind either and the pain stopped her from reaching for him. But why was he not there? Why did he leave this damaged mage here where he should have been? She tried to ignore the tendrils of fear growing in her stomach and tightening around her chest. She blew the light film of dust off the pages and squinted at the script in the dim light.

  It detailed the plans for a major battle; told of a gathering of dragons and their riders, of the protections they had laid on a large clutch of eggs. It told how they placed her in the Hatching Chamber because it was one of the deepest in the hold, in the hopes she would survive as a guard against the future.

  Turning, she peered into the semi-darkness. In the shadows in the middle of the chamber, covered in their own sheet of dust, lay a large clutch of eggs. Among them were the last her dragon had laid. Tears stung her eyes at the sight of them and she returned her attention to the pages of the journal.

  Dread settled over her as her eyes moved over the writing. It told of a future, one both beautiful and terrible. It told of doom and possible salvation. A future she had foretold. The vision that spawned the forewarning exploded into her mind and swept her away. Someone was screaming. Was it her? The images rolled over her, one flowing into the next. Her mind tried to block the vision, but without her dragon as a buffer, she had no control over it. It overwhelmed her and pushed on, carrying her with it until its conclusion.

  She was on the floor next to the table. She reached for Ilyana before remembering her bond-sister was dead. Desperately, she reached out for Bardeck, pushing past the pain, and found…nothing.

  She scrambled to her feet with Mari’s help. She grabbed the woman’s arms in a tight grip and looked into her eyes. “Mari, where is Bardeck? Where are the other riders?”

  Mari’s lower lip quivered, tears swam in her eyes and her voice wavered, “There is only…there is only you, Di’shan.”

  Emallya’s heart pounded as she ran for the door of the Hatching Chamber. “Oh, no. Please, no!” Yanking the door open, she threw herself into the hall. Stumbling, she half ran through the Dragon Hold. Fear coiled in her stomach. Rubble and rock were strewn across corridors. The dead lay in twisted piles that she tripped over in the near darkness. Weeping from those still alive echoed down the halls.

  Even in the Great Hall, the light was terribly dim. In one direction, the doors leading to the inner terrace were torn from their massive hinges. In the caldera beyond, the bodies of dead draclets lay strewn across the grass by the lake. She choked on a sob and turned the other way. The entrance from the city was almost completely buried in collapsed rock.

  Her breath came in ragged gasps that tore at her throat as she scrambled up the sharp rocks of what had once been a mighty arch. Uncaring of the scrapes that made her hands and feet bleed, she pushed herself through the narrow hole at the top. Losing her hold, she fell down the far side. Her bruised and battered body came to rest on the broad terrace at the top of an enormous, sweeping stairway of stone.

  Lying with her forehead pressed against the gritty stone of the terrace, she trembled. She didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see what she knew lay beyond. She fought for control of her emotions, her mind and her body. Everything in her screamed for release from the horror her world had become.

  Slowly, she raised her head and looked out at a scene of utter devastation. The city of Galdrilene was no more. The six mage towers stood broken and burning. The ground itself was churned and blasted. Fires raged uncontrolled, feeding off the remains of what had once been a beautiful city. In desperation, she again reached for Bardeck and Mernoth with her mind and was greeted by a bleak void. The burning city echoed with her screams as fear and aching loss rode in with the next wave of Separation.

  She wanted to die, wanted to follow her dragon. There was nothing left for her; except the eggs. Rylin’s eggs were there and they needed protection. Mari scrambled down the rubble of the doorway to her. There were other survivors, too. They needed her. And the future needed her. Galdrilene was in ashes, but her vision spoke of embers that would fan flames into the future. Embers. Future riders. Somehow, she had to be here for them.

  Vaddoc walked alone through the dark, shrouded streets. He paid little attention to his surroundings or the dense blanket of fog, uncommon for Marden, the capital city of Shadereen. Something about the fog tickled the back of his mind, but was pushed away by the turmoil in his thoughts. Sooner or later they would realize he had been the one who used magic. Then he would die.

  The penalty for the crime of magical ability remained the same as it had since the War of Fire ended some five hundred years before. The nations had worked too long and hard rebuilding after those insane magic users and their dragons turned the world to ash before destroying themselves. None would take the chance of it happening again.

  Vaddoc wondered if it really mattered. Lenyi was dead. His magic hadn’t saved her, only condemned him. Maybe that was just as well. Then he could find his love in Maiadar, the realm of the dead. In his mind, he heard a growl of protest. He ignored it.

  He’d been hearing a hum in his mind for several months. But he didn’t know he could use magic. Not until the moment the hum turned into a roar in his mind and all he could think was there needed to be a shield between Lenyi and the towering, horned beast bearing down on her. For a moment, a shield of light had shimmered around her, then it was gone. He would never forget the look in her dark eyes when the sword of the Kojen took her life.

  The growl softened to a hum again and crooned comfortingly. He wished it would go away. What was he thinking? Magic was too dangerous and he didn’t want to go insane. The hum came close to growling again. Vaddoc tried to ignore it. The hum didn’t want him to turn himself in, he could feel it, like the mind of another being sharing his head. But it was his duty to turn himself over and accept the death sentence with honor. Just like his Watch was his duty.

  His Watch. He thought of the inscription in the stone above the gate to the city. “The Three Sisters stand shoulder-to-shoulder as a barrier to the east. Their soldiers the first line of defense. They watch and wait. Always ready to defend against the shadows in the sunrise.”

  The words of his Sword Master rang in his memory, reminding him of his oath, “You are one of those soldiers. You took the oath of a Border Guard, you agreed to lay down your life for Shadereen and everyone who lives to the west. You agreed to take on a Watch. You will be ever vigilant of the Kojen who come out of the east. Yo
u will never walk away from your Watch. The Watch can never be surrendered. There is no greater shame than failing your duty.”

  Vaddoc shook his head and walked faster as if he could escape the memory. He turned a corner and nearly ran into a woman. Even in the dark, Vaddoc recognized his aunt. He started to apologize when she reached out, grabbed his arm and said, “I have been looking all over for you. Why didn’t you stay put as my note told you to?”

  He remembered the note brought by a messenger that morning. “You sent that, Arnya? Why? What are you doing out here in the dark?”

  She pulled on his arm, leading him further down the street. “I might as well not have bothered. I sent it so I wouldn’t have to wander all over looking for you. This fog isn’t going to last forever and Emallya wants to get you out of here under its cover. The Members of Peace are already suspicious. They’ve been ordered to bring in your unit. They know one of you used magic.”

  He stopped. “What does that have to do with me?” Why didn’t he just admit to it?

  She looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t play stupid with me, young man. There isn’t time for that. I know what you can do.”

  Suspicion filled him. “Why are you helping me, then? Shouldn’t you be turning me in?”

  Arnya sighed. “I can hardly turn you in for something I can do, as well.”

  Vaddoc’s breath left him in a rush and he stared at her in the darkened street, stunned and uncertain. “But…what…how?” If what she said was true, if she could use magic, wouldn’t she be insane by now? Everyone who used magic went insane. Every child was taught that from the time they were old enough to understand. But this was his aunt, he had known her his whole life. She wasn’t insane…was she?

  She said they were bringing in his unit. They knew. Sweat broke out on his forehead, despite the cold, desert night. They would find him. He wanted to be sent on his way to Lenyi, yet at the same time the hum demanded he live. The two opposites warred with each other as he stood in the dark with a woman he should be able to trust, except…she could use magic.