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    Journey to the Dragon's Graveyard (Star Plague Journals Book 3)
    Journey to the Dragon's Graveyard (Star Plague Journals Book 3)
    Journey to the Dragon's Graveyard (Star Plague Journals Book 3)
    Ebook112 pages1 hour

    Journey to the Dragon's Graveyard (Star Plague Journals Book 3)

    By Paul Smith

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    About this ebook

    Ikari goes in search of the key to Drake immortality, following the trail left by his former mentor Suchain. With him go Timo Coertez and the ghost of a dead wolf that haunts the ancient cloak of invisibility he wields. Their goal? The mysterious Dragon's Graveyard.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPaul Smith
    Release dateJan 15, 2016
    ISBN9781310778117
    Journey to the Dragon's Graveyard (Star Plague Journals Book 3)
    Author

    Paul Smith

    PAUL SMITH is a dedicated father of two and an expert trainer in leadership and storytelling techniques. As the author of the popular Lead with a Story, he has seen his work featured in The Wall Street Journal, Time, Forbes, The Washington Post, Success, and Investor's Business Daily, among others.

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      Book preview

      Journey to the Dragon's Graveyard (Star Plague Journals Book 3) - Paul Smith

      Journey to the Dragon's Graveyard.

      (The Star Plague Journals: hidden track. A couples dance for three).

      Written and illustrated by Paul Smith.

      *

      Journey to the Dragon's Graveyard (Star Plague Journals: Hidden Track)

      Paul Smith

      Copyright 2016 Paul Smith

      Smashwords Edition.

      This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to people, places or events is purely coincidental, and bears no malicious intent.

      ISBN:

      For more information on my work, and to keep up to date with new releases please follow me on Twitter @tattooloverboi or check out one of my galleries:

      Gallery: http://gladefaun.deviantart.com/

      Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/starofthemorning

      Blog: http://paulsmithauthor.wordpress.com/

      *

      "For Deacon, for two reasons:

      1) You were born the day I finished it.

      2) The symmetry seemed appropriate, given that the book this belongs with is dedicated to your father.

      Peace and long life little man. Some day perhaps you'll read this and look upward in wonder yourself. Maybe even go there. We live in hope."

      *

      Contents.

      Enter, Stage Left...

      Meme.

      Down the Hole.

      At the Gates.

      The Haunted Mansion.

      World of Possibility.

      Fresh Light of Day.

      Enter, Stage Left...

      But I don't understand, why?

      Look, Timo, we've been over this. We have something else to do, something equally important.

      Yes, but...

      "It's not real? Is that what you were about to say?"

      Well, no...

      Good. Because the minute you start thinking like that in there, you're going to be very dead, very quickly. Lupine guardian angel or not.

      The boy sighed. ...Okay.

      Ikari rolled his eyes. I'm going for a pipe. Just make sure you're here at sunset. And bring that thing with you.

      It wasn't the boy's fault. Who could blame him for not wanting to go with the others, not wishing for adventure and risk. The fact that risk at present involved sifting through the Administrata of the mortal twin now they'd declared themselves openly, to see who might trusted and who must be ejected from the city, was neither here nor there. Timo, much like all young men, romanticised the here, the now. He preferred things tangible, wanted into the thick of it.

      Where as what they needed from him sounded, Ikari was forced to admit, like a nebulous abstraction. The fact it involved rendering their physical bodies as good as unconscious did not help the situation, for all that what they experienced on this little sojourn would be no less real for it.

      Not everyone is made the same, Ikari. His old mentor Kye's words, drifting back to him on the wind, down the corridor of years. He smiled absently, shaking his head at the thought of the old man. It was strange to think of him now, his body still fleshy in places, hanging amidst the interweaving branches of the Grove. The pillars of his own Briar grown thick and calloused, ascendant. His leaves drinking in the light of each new day in slow, diurnal turn.

      This is all your fault, you old whore. He grinned around those last words, head hanging in amusement. Drew deeply on the pipe as he looked out again at the view. He was up on the ridge above the bathing chambers, had come here to clear his head with a last, final bit of reality before they went under.

      His arms and chest were bare, drinking in the dying rays of the sun, though a loose shirt covered his shoulders, and he'd kept his trousers on. There are some things no one needs to see, and the ruined mess of his prick at present was one of them.

      Fucking Briar.

      Yes, precisely, Ikari.

      Age brought warring voices in one's head, or at least it had in his case. Whole days would go by where he barely spoke to another soul, yet contested with his own almost constantly.

      One of the many hidden penuries of immortality.

      He'd spotted the Wraethi doing it as well. Holding muttered internal discourse, when he thought no one was paying attention. Wittering away to himself over the latest problem like the proverbial old fish wife. It was reassuring, in a way. Proof, that the great and powerful Efljos had indeed, once, been human. Was very much still prey to the frailties and short fallings of that condition.

      Oddly, it was this proof of flaw, this demonstration of failing, that made him certain the man deserved their support.

      Koshael Galairel did not hold himself up as a saint, or prophet. Didn't attempt to aggrandise himself, beyond the obvious gifts he could not deny. He would stand on their shoulders, true, but only so he might offer them the view. And if others thought they might offer better insight, he was more than happy to boost them up in his place, or climb down to listen to them on equal footing.

      Remembering the meeting, he seemed to recall the Wraethi had practically begged him to shoulder the task he now bore, for all it had been Ikari suggesting it in the first place. As if he needed persuasion to adopt his own mad scheme.

      He'd originally sought the Wraethi out with the intention of apologising for his behaviour at the man's council of war. A sentiment the other had waved away with the easy acceptance of the old. It was a novel sensation for Ikari, being treated as such. Though he was a relative youth amongst his own kind, he had become used to wearing the mantel of age amongst others, more so during his time on the road with Clarissa.

      Ikari was still smiling quietly to himself at the concept as the Wraethi mulled over the what seemed to him the most logical way to proceed.

      So you plan to break into the Dragon's Graveyard, and what? Steal the secrets surrounding their immortality? The Wraethi, grinning.

      Ikari nodded. Something like that.

      And Suchain was certain this place exists?

      He pursed his lips, pushed them to the side with indecision. ...his shade seemed pretty adamant.

      "The... meme...? Galairel seemed to taste the unfamiliar word. The ghost he left in the machine?"

      Ikari's turn to smile now, at the familiar turn of phrase. Precisely.

      The Wraethi shook his head, eyes thoughtful, lips settled back over those worrying teeth once more. The talents of your people... he glanced up at Ikari, where he sat at the opposite end of the swaying porch swing out front of the Wraethi's guest cabin. I still find it improbable that you haven't all up and left. Moved on. Especially given the persecution you've faced here.

      Ikari shrugged. I can't really speak for the others, but I like it here. Around the Arc, I mean, though Sha'Klairon as well... he trailed off, face becoming serious ...and anyway, we couldn't, even if we wanted. We marooned ourselves here for a reason.

      Hmm. The storm. Galairel raised an eyebrow at the man opposite. I've had my share of friends amongst your people. I've lived too long not to. He waved away the Nym's surprise. I've heard your folklore, listened to the stories your ancestors tell. Not directly, of course. He looked out amongst the night time trees, lantern light reflecting oddly in his eyes. You washed yourselves up on our shores, to escape what hunts you.

      Ikari nodded soberly. And now we fear to return to the depths, in case it's still out there waiting for us.

      The Wraethi's touch bore an unexpected snap of connection, as his fingers rested briefly on Ikari's arm, lips quirked in apology for the shock. We all have our burdens to bear. Sitting back, he cleared his throat, reaching for the jug to offer more cocktail. Ikari nodded, holding out his glass, and shifting the umbrella in it out of the way as he did so. Speaking of burdens then... the Efljos began.

      Yes. He sipped at the concoction, set it aside. So, I could go alone, but I wondered if I might request the services of the boy.

      And his cape. Galairel smiled. I knew the wolf would come into this somewhere.

      We need to have... words, first. He met the

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