Dragonchild - Book Two (of Five) "Dragonspawn Saga"

Dragonchild

© 2015 G. W. Steen

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Dedication

CH ~ O ~ Prologue

CH ~ I ~ Dragonchild

CH ~ II ~ Accusation ~ Disclosure ~ Salvation

CH ~ III ~ The Fortress

CH ~ IV ~ Enlightenment

CH ~ V ~ Adalstienn

CH ~ VI ~ Grand Wizard

CH ~ VII ~ Rebirth

CH ~ VIII ~ Torment

CH ~ IX ~ Beyond Adalstienn

CH ~ X ~ Confession

CH ~ XI ~ Shattered Memories

CH ~ XII ~ Desperation

CH ~ XIII ~ Forgiven

CH ~ XIV ~ The Guardian

CH ~ XV ~ Revelation

Appendix

About the Author

Dedication

I would like to thank my family, friends, my proofreaders and editors, who shall all remain nameless; you know who you are and I thank you. And to those who never gave up on me, and through their own ongoing trials, were steadfast and loyal supporters of my work.

Also, to all the unknown authors who still struggle with their own words, don’t give up. Every voice has an ear, no matter the genre. Enjoy the worlds you create, for they are the literal extension of who you are.

This project, begun over a decade ago, is still incomplete. This volume, Book II in the Dragonspawn Saga, continues the fantasy adventure world that will unfold in three subsequent tales:

~Published~

Love’s Consequence – Book I

~Coming Soon~

Dragamere – Book III

Sands of a Millennium – Book IV

Dragonblood – Book V

From me to you, enjoy the journey!

G.W.S.

Chapter 0

Prologue

Dracmoor Vale

CE 987 Oktober 25

{JD 2081857.47917}

The Full moon clung to the twilight horizon; a celestial marionette on invisible strings as it crept through the wispy clouds into the star-filled sky. High above the snow-capped mountains Luna’s face emerged, spreading its radiance over the countryside, bathing the fog-laden valleys in light and shadow.

A cool breeze snaked through the half-bare trees as the dying leaves rustled. The once bright moon turned flaxen and deepened to a blood red as the crisp air filled with an unnatural silence.

Mysterious, undulating fingers of mist caressed the base of a humble cottage that stood alone in the barren valley. From within its thin walls, a shrill, pain-filled scream sliced through the stillness, followed soon after by the cries of a newborn.

On the breeze from far beyond the horizon there came a mournful yet horrendous outcry, one of desperation-filled anger, the only sound the fire-breathing dragon could summon.

The sound echoed throughout the deep hollow, but it soon faded and the eerie calm returned.

Chapter I

Dragonchild

Dracmoor Vale

CE 987 Oktober 26

{JD 2081857.50625}

After the strenuous childbirth, the crippled, duty-bound maidservant brushed Eryka’s damp raven hair from her eyes. Touching her cold cheek as she leaned over her, Shar’s lips brushed across her mistress’s ear. Oh, m’lady, see, your child lives! Look at her dark hair and dark eyes. She is beautiful. She is part of you, and she is your gift of love to Lord Naguum. May I fetch him that he might see his daughter?

Eryka held back tears as she gazed upon the newborn. Weak and struggling for breath she said, Go, Shar. Be swift. Bring him to me. Our daughter is born, but my life will soon end … With a strained smile and a deep sigh, her exhausted body relaxed.

Shar smoothed her hand over Eryka’s cheek. Yes, at once, m’lady. Hold your daughter close, for your arms are weak; she needs to feel your warmth and love surrounding her. I shall seek out Lord Naguum and return.

In the flickering candlelight, Shar swaddled the tiny infant in a scrap of worn blanket and laid her on her mother’s chest. Satisfied and warm, the newborn’s faint whimpers calmed. Gently, she secured her mistress’ arms around the babe that now lay content upon her breast.

In the half-darkness, Shar spotted the only available covering; a crumpled old woolen blanket, splattered with her mistress’s blood, lying on the dusty cobblestone floor. She picked it up, shook it out and covered them both.

Hiding her growing concern that churned in her stomach, Shar touched the baby’s cheek as she leaned forward and kissed Eryka’s fevered brow. I must find him without delay, she thought, as she choked back tears, pulling her cloak tight and hobbling to the door.

As the door closed, Eryka caressed her daughter’s face, knowing these would be her last moments with this angelic child.

With tear-filled eyes, she pushed back the blanket, pulled her daughter closer to her lips and whispered, My love, I shall give my life that you may live. You are fragile, but your strength comes from one greater than I. Her heartbeat quickened, an anguished cry escaped her lips. What if I fail? Thoughts flooded her mind of the loss that would now separate her from her family. She breathed deeply, filling with resolve. I shall not fail, she said and, after a few moments, as her tranquil demeanor returned, continued, The blood that flows within your veins is not human. One day you shall learn your true parentage and look with pride upon the symbol I bestow upon you now.

With a gentle touch, Eryka opened the swaddling cloth and lifted the tiny hand to her lips; the sweet fragrance overwhelmed her senses, giving her strength. Pressing on the infant’s arm with her chilled hand, the flesh beneath it grew warm. She closed her eyes. Protect my child … this symbol shall be with her always, she said as she lifted her hand, exposing a small, distinct image on the baby’s arm. It was the sign of her heritage. It was her birthright.

Dim moonlight bathed the winding, uneven path as Shar’s search for her master continued. Deep in thought, she tripped over a hidden rock and stumbled, falling to her knees, gasping as knife-sharp rocks sliced into her aged joints and hands. Ignoring her own pain, and staring down at the dew-laden footpath, she sobbed, "Oh, m’lord, I must find you … our lady’s time is short."

Cloaked in silence, a huge shadow enshrouded her. Shaken by the sudden darkness, her swollen eyes smarting, she swallowed hard, feeling warm hands upon her cheeks.

A familiar voice spoke as she looked up at the tall silhouette before her. Faithful servant, what be the news of our lady? Why do you display such a somber tone?

It was Naguum, her lord and master, standing before her, resplendent in his velvet cloak and dragon-embellished breastplate, his long, auburn locks crowning his rugged features.

She rose to her feet holding on tight to her master’s hands. A beautiful child, m’lord … and she lives!

With a gentle touch, he wiped away the lone tear trickling down her cheek. Then lead the way, my dear Shar.

The shadow lifted as he took a step back, and light returned to her face. His brow tensed as he watched her every painful move and, following her lead, they walked back along the dew-laden pathway to the cottage.

The radiant moon dimmed as their return came to an end. Nearing the door, Shar limped off the path, acknowledging her station, curtseying as he walked past her.

He hesitated, touching the jagged doorframe.

Slowly, he pushed open the unlatched door. It creaked as the crinkled leather hinges pulled taut. As it came to rest, he stepped through the doorway making his way into the dimly-lit space.

His heavy cloak swept across the dust-covered stone floor, as a sculpted dragon glared from his chest-plate. He paused, but continued, his polished boots sounding with every step. His eyes grew accustomed to the half-light as he moved toward his love’s bedside. Eryka? Eryka, please! His blood froze in his veins as he cried out, NO! Eryka lay in silent stillness as the sound echoed around her.

Crouched outside the doorway, Shar peered inside and watched in pain as Naguum stopped at his wife’s side and looked down at her serene features.

Eryka’s once sparkling eyes, now dull and fixated, stared through him. He looked at the sleeping infant in her arms—the scorned wizard’s curse had finally been realized.

He leaned forward, caressed her cheek, kissed her brow and closed her eyes. Kneeling before her in reverence, he lifted a lifeless hand; first caressing it with his lips, he then enclosed it in his palm. Tears fell, seeping between their hands while his shoulders heaved with grief, his sobs the only sound in that cold and dreary room.

Shar trembled, witnessing the tender scene. How could he have lost her? she asked herself. How can my mistress be gone? Their parting need not have happened.

She watched as Naguum rose to his feet, pulling away the blanket.

Lifting the infant into his arms, he snuggled her cheek to his own and kissed her. He whispered his grief to the child. "My sweet Giselle, blood flows in your veins as it does through mine. Live as others do, but never forget you are not like them."

As Naguum embraced his daughter, his anger boiled. For an instant his eyes flashed crimson. As the bitter memory surfaced, he growled the name of their vengeful adversary … Moorlange!

In his contained rage, he turned away from the blood-stained bed, and without a word, urged Shar to enter.

She obliged and closed the door, approached and stopped before them. She looked up at her master holding his child.

His voice wavered as he said, Shar, I cannot give this beautiful child the care she desperately needs. Please, for her sake, and through the love you have for my Lady, take her as your own.

I cannot, she thought and then relented as memories of her own infant child, lost through illness, returned.

When she did not respond, Naguum continued, "Please, I beg of you, teach her with all the love you possess. Relay to her daily all the love her mother and I have for her deep within our hearts, for I shall always be near, watching over you."

With her reluctance fading, she extended her arms.

Naguum looked at his daughter for the last time, kissing her cheek before placing her in Shar’s arms.

Without another word, he kissed Shar goodbye.

Shaken by his request, frozen in place, she watched him depart without a backward look, the rusty latch clicking into place as the door closed behind him.

Self-doubt still nagged her. Oh, m’lord, please come back … she called after him, but her words went unheeded.

You cannot give in, it is your duty—the child must survive. Slowly, she walked to the door holding Giselle to her breast beneath her cloak. Tightening the neck strings, she lifted up her hood and then raised the door-latch.

Pulling the door open she looked outside. The brilliant full moon and the cool, crisp air had returned. The trees, like silent sentinels, stood deathly still, the distant gorge bathed in mist.

Hesitant, she stepped through the doorway and away from the cottage. Looking about, she saw no one; she listened but heard nothing. She gazed up at the moon through a break in the clouds; in that instant, the silhouette of a grand dragon appeared. Now she understood … it was her master … Lord Naguum.

Giselle snuggled contented against Shar’s breast. As she cuddled the infant, words formed inside her head, loud whispers disguising the tone, Shar … Shar … she heard as the baby gave a cry. Not allowing her new charge to suffer the cold, she hurried for the cottage door.

A sudden gust of wind made her hesitate as she reached the doorway. She braced herself, looked over her shoulder, and stared at the moon. The sky was clear and the strange fog had dissipated; as for the elusive dragon, Lord Naguum, he had vanished.

She shook off her hood as she stepped through the door, closing it behind her. She loosened Giselle’s tight wrap and whispered, The birth and death of this night shall live in my memory forever. She kissed the infant on the forehead saying, "Oh, little one, you’ve been left to face the cruel world alone. I will prepare you as best I can for whatever you may encounter on your journey. You are special—the child of a witch and a dragon—but we must leave this place in haste and return home."

Pressing her lips against Giselle’s forehead, Shar returned to Eryka’s bedside, sat down beside her and waited. As if floating in a dream, her thoughts drifted back to their years together.

She still had doubts. M’lady, I’ll cherish your priceless gift always. I wish to teach her the ways of the dragon, but I have not the knowledge.

Laying Giselle on her mother’s paling breast, Shar caressed Eryka’s visage. I beg of you, please guide me.

The air in the room suddenly changed. The smell of death faded, replaced by the fragrance of sandalwood—Eryka’s enchanting scent. Closing her eyes, Shar felt a soft embrace as if her lady was bestowing it upon her, and she drifted off.

In her trance, she wandered through her memories. Soft and sweet, a familiar but distant voice filled her with hope. The delicate words removed her anxious thoughts; confidence and determination returned.

My faithful Shar, depart and be swift! Return to the place of your birth and raise my daughter as your own. Do not fear the future. There is one last gift to protect you from harm. The voice echoed as it mingled with the flickering candlelight.

Shar opened her eyes.

Lying on Eryka’s chest next to the babe was a silver and gold necklace holding an emblem, the magical symbol of life encircled by a winged dragon.

The voice sounded inside her head once more. You must wear this always. Be not afraid to demonstrate the power that blesses and protects you. It shall give you power over them and keep you safe.

The voice fell silent.

With trembling fingers, Shar picked up the necklace and placed it around her neck. It warmed to her touch, comforting her, sending a tingling sensation through her frail body.

Thank you, m’lady. I shall wear it always, she said and lifted Giselle from her mistress’s still form, pulling her close. She paused as her breath caught upon seeing a small, leather-bound book on Eryka’s breast where the infant had