Dragon Soul Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Praise for Diana Green’s Dragon Clan Books

  Dragon Soul

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Then she saw him, standing on the far side

  of the pool. The stranger held so still, he might have been a statue, except his long silver hair lifted in the breeze. It struck her as an odd color, when his face showed no more lines than a male in his prime. It gave him an uncanny, ageless appearance.

  His eyes were cold gray, almost as pale as his hair. She’d never seen the like. They gleamed, as if lit from within, seeming to pierce through her.

  Was he human or dragon? Usually facial features, combined with body language and body type were enough to answer that question.

  With him it was not so easy. He was tall for a human but leaner than most male dragons. His clothes looked to be made of expensive cloth, but they were worn and travel stained.

  The proud set of his mouth spoke clearly of dragon, as did the arch of his brow, and the lordly way he stood. No cowering human slave, for certain. He studied her with a calm, almost frightening, calculation. Didn’t he know who she was? Her father would tear him limb from limb if he dared lay a hand on her.

  “What is your name?” she demanded, rising from the fallen log.

  “You need never know.” His voice had a cool edge. He spoke three words she didn’t recognize, lifting his hand in a slow spiraling gesture.

  She tried to speak again, but her voice wouldn’t respond. Panic surged through her body as she tried to move, but nothing happened. Her legs remained planted to the ground, her arms locked at her sides, as if she had turned to stone.

  What sorcery did he wield?

  Praise for Diana Green’s Dragon Clan Books

  “A cinematic thrill, DRAGON WIFE is an epic adventure from beginning to end. Ms. Green’s world-building is stellar and her sweeping descriptions paint vivid canvases worthy of an exposé. Imaginative and fresh, her tale invites the reader to enter the home of the dragons and stay awhile. With bold characters, steamy romance, mystical elements, and an adventurous story line, [this] isn’t just a toe dipper. It requires indulgent submersion in its fantastical bubbles. Ahh.”

  ~Sofia St. Angeles, In D’tale Magazine (5 Stars)

  ~*~

  “This steady-to-fast-paced plot captivates readers with suspense, excitement and romance. The author brings [DRAGON WIFE] to life with well written scenes and details that capture the imagination and the fascinating dragon world draws the reader deeper into the story. The characters are strong, compelling and grab the reader’s attention and ensure that the reader wants to know Wen and Huroth’s story.”

  ~Evampire, The Romance Reviews (5 Stars)

  ~*~

  “If I had to, I could go on and explain every character in detail. For me, that is a huge achievement because it doesn’t happen in a lot of books I’ve read. The plot and story [of DRAGON WARRIOR] pulled me in with every word and painted a clear picture of every scene. I can’t say I finished it in a single sitting but only because I didn’t want it to end. I tried to prolong the action as long as I could, but my curiosity couldn’t be denied.”

  ~Sorrel, Long and Short Reviews (5 Stars)

  Dragon Soul

  by

  Diana Green

  Dragon Clan: Book 3

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Dragon Soul

  COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Diana Green

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2015

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0336-9

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0337-6

  Dragon Clan: Book 3

  Published in the United States of America

  Prologue

  Vadin stormed down the narrow steps, taking them three at a time. Rage and grief burned through him like wildfire. His parents were dead. His siblings, childhood friends, and their neighbors were all gone as well.

  The entire village of Graystone was destroyed, flattened by warring dragons and trolkin. He couldn’t take it in. The magnitude of loss was too great and his shock too complete. How could this happen?

  He’d done everything the dragon lords had asked of him, learning their magic, developing his abilities, helping them fight their cursed battles. And all for what? In the end, they’d carelessly destroyed his home and loved ones.

  It didn’t matter if the slaughter was unintentional. The dragon lords allowed it to happen, showing no more concern for human life than they would for vermin.

  The stairway blurred as tears rose unbidden to Vadin’s eyes. He paused, taking a shaky breath, one hand braced against the cold granite wall. Darkness pressed close. Despair nipped at him from the shadows. He bared his teeth, growling like an animal in pain.

  “I’ll make them pay—death for death.”

  But this wasn’t the time to let his emotions loose. He had to channel their energy into magic, his own anger especially. It would make him stronger.

  He must find the power to stop this war between dragons and trolkin—forever. There was no question of trying and failing. He would succeed, and now was the time to strike.

  He reached the bottom of the stairs and turned down a corridor, following it to a dead end. The only light came from the sputtering torch he carried. It showed nothing but a blank wall, unremarkable and seemingly impassible.

  Vadin knew better. He placed his free hand on the stone, murmuring a word of power. The blocks of granite ground together like muted thunder as they folded inward.

  Stepping through, he uttered another command. Torches, set around the curving walls, flared to life, their resin scenting the air with a sharp tang.

  This was his ritual chamber and a place of great power. Here, anything might be possible.

  Vadin strode to an altar set up in the middle of the room. Around the structure symbols were carved deep into the stone floor, forming a large double circle. He lifted a staff from the altar, raised it over his head, and shouted words from the ancient speech of the eldrin.

  The blue crystal of the staff began to glow, brighter and brighter, till it shone like a new star. He brought it down, planting the staff squarely in front of him, its tip touching the center of the magic circle.

  Blinding light rippled outward, pulsing across the floor, igniting the symbols with
brilliance. Vadin’s eyes closed as he slipped into a trance, singing the incantation like a dirge.

  Magic reached out from his staff, from the carved symbols on the floor, and from deep within himself. Vast reservoirs of power opened to his call, drawn by the immensity of his need.

  He channeled the energy up, through his body, building it to an explosive intensity. His eyes flew open, and his vision filled with a searing azure. The final words of binding tore from his throat, like the cry of a wrathful god.

  The spell flooded out, a mighty wave of magic surging into the world. Dragons and trolkin would both be frozen, so they could do no more harm.

  But what was this? The magic still lingered within him. Blue light swirled around his ankles, freezing his skin. Ice formed on his feet, rapidly moving up his legs to his torso.

  Vadin struggled, attempting a fire spell to generate heat. It was useless. His energy reserves were drained. Panic gripped him as the frigid prison encased his arms and neck.

  How could the spell turn on him? He was nothing but a reluctant accomplice of the dragons—not one of them. This was all wrong.

  Ice shivered up his face and over his scalp, enclosing him completely. Awareness faded as he sank into a death-like sleep. A final question remained frozen on his lips.

  “Why?”

  Somehow, someday, he would have to find the answer.

  Chapter One

  Centuries later…

  One moment the evening sky stretched empty and silent, the next it filled with thundering dragon wings. Seven of the beasts burst from behind the fortress’s high outer wall. They climbed steeply, turned, and sped westward.

  Vadin leapt under the cover of a eucalyptus tree, muttering a basic hiding spell. Even from this distance, the dragons might spot him. They had superior eyesight, along with a heightened sense of smell. There was no need to take chances. Not yet. He should learn more and prepare himself, before striking at his old foes.

  The lead dragon, a mighty crimson male, bellowed and shook his head like an angry bull. Others answered, roaring till the hills echoed. Tree branches swayed in the gale created by their passing.

  Despite the magic shielding Vadin, his heart raced, and his hands shook. These were the first dragons he’d seen since waking from his long frozen sleep. Their power and size remained daunting, but more than that, his body reacted to the memories they stirred.

  After all these years, rage and grief still cut him to the core. He’d hoped his pain might have faded by now, but the sight of these winged monsters brought it all back. The old wounds were raw as ever, and they demanded vengeance.

  “All in good time,” he murmured, trying to calm the tempest in his blood. “First, I need answers.”

  He planned to rid the world of dragons, but not until he understood his connection to them. Somehow, the ice spell had turned on him, keeping him sealed in the same frigid sorcery as his enemies. He had to find the cause or any future attack might go awry.

  When he had first broken free of his wintry prison, he tried to put the past behind him. It appeared the dragons and trolkin were gone. The dragon city lay in blasted ruins. No monsters had been seen for centuries, and humans spread across the land, flourishing. All appeared to be well.

  Yet, time had proved him wrong. Eventually he heard rumors, while traveling the roads with tinkers and merchant caravans. The dragons had returned, and with them came trolkin.

  Both races were few in number, scattered far to the north. Some tales spoke of an alliance between a dragon clan and the kingdom of Rhelaun. Later stories told of an uprising of nomadic tribesmen and trolkin together.

  Initially, he’d ignored these rumors and done nothing. Any action taken against the dragons could carry a dire backlash. It was too great a risk, especially as his powers were diminished.

  Somehow during his casting of the great ice spell his power had been depleted. He no longer had the magical reserves to punish an entire race. The humans would have to fend for themselves. But at least now they had the dragons and trolkin vastly outnumbered.

  This was what he told himself, as he roamed—searching for a place to call home. He earned money with small magic, the kind that wouldn’t drain him too badly. A ship captain might hire him to call the wind, or a troupe of players might pay for illusions to enhance their performances.

  It was not a bad life. He tried to be content, appreciating the fact he was finally free. For the first time, he could choose his own path. No more did the dragon lords rule his days. He was his own master.

  But the years rolled by, and his restless spirit failed to find peace. He belonged nowhere, trapped outside his time, lost in a world of strangers. His family and friends were gone, nothing but dust and bones, forgotten by all but him.

  Memories haunted his dreams. The past would not surrender its hold. It burned like a bed of coals inside Vadin, waiting for fresh tinder to burst into flames.

  When he heard of dragons in the distant south, killing and enslaving humans, he found the fuel he needed. His thirst for vengeance re-ignited. These monsters had to be stopped, and no one else could rise to the challenge.

  In all his travels, he had yet to encounter anyone whose magical abilities rivaled his. Even in his reduced condition, he was still the most powerful sorcerer living. If the dragons were to be destroyed, it was up to him.

  He set out immediately, traveling south for weeks on end. The journey took him to new lands, with exotic foods and strange customs. At some other time, he might have enjoyed the diversion, but his sense of purpose remained clear. Nothing could distract him from his mission.

  Now he stood under the cover of eucalyptus trees, observing the southern dragons’ fortress. It was massive, the outer wall enclosing many acres, set with large stone buildings. A hundred dragons could easily live there, along with droves of human slaves.

  Built on a rise, it overlooked the southern coastline. Rolling hills, brown with summer, stretched along miles of curving beaches. Palm and eucalyptus trees grew scattered with warmer-climate evergreens, but most of the ground remained open and dry.

  The surrounding region lay deserted, except for a few villages, their inhabitants existing only to serve scaled and winged masters. When Vadin stopped at one of these small towns, the locals warned him to leave.

  They considered themselves lucky, compared to the slaves who lived in the fortress. But the dragons ruled with an iron fist. If a stranger was found in one of “their” villages, not only would that person be killed, but some of the locals might be sacrificed as well. The dragons wanted no outlanders spreading dissent and rebellion.

  Vadin had to proceed with caution. He needed a way to study his enemies, to discover the nature of his connection to them. At the same time, his presence must remain secret.

  It was a challenging situation, but he felt determined to prevail. One way or another, the dragons would finally face justice. This he swore, on the memory of his family and all the other nameless forgotten victims.

  ****

  Sun sifted through palm fronds, warming jasmine blooms so their perfume filled the air. Light danced over the fountain, a dazzling display on water droplets like cut glass. Colorful birds darted in and out of the spray, enjoying a morning bath.

  Oliana watched for a moment before returning to her book. She had just reached the part where the hero declared his love for the heroine. These passages were beautiful and spellbinding, filling her heart with longing.

  She never understood why the other dragons disdained books. Wondrous worlds awaited discovery between their leather bindings. Romance, adventure, and enchantment beckoned from every page. How could anyone call them a waste of space?

  If she wasn’t one of the dragon high-lord’s offspring, the fortress library would probably be emptied. It was a remnant of times when humans ruled the land. No one else saw its value.

  But she was her father’s only daughter, and he gave in to her pleading. The library remained, with all its books intact.
She visited daily, relishing the choice of each new story.

  “Oliana. Where are you?” her younger brother called, bounding through the gardens like an oversized puppy. He spotted her hiding place, tucked away behind a fuchsia bush. “Oh, there you are…nose in a book, as usual. How can you stand being so dull?”

  “Good morning to you, too, Orlis.” She shrugged off his insult. He didn’t mean any harm. Words simply tumbled out of his mouth before he thought them through.

  Whereas she was shy and given to daydreaming, he was all bluster and activity. She loved solitude, while he was happiest at the center of a crowd. They were opposites in almost every way.

  Despite this, the two of them looked like twins. In eldrin form, Orlis shared her same tawny hair, full lips, and wide brown eyes. As drakes, they were a blend of flashing gold scales inherited from their mother and the triple-spiked brow crest of their father.

  Watching Orlis standing by the fountain was much like studying her own reflection. Except her chin didn’t sport the sparse beard of an adolescent male. And she rarely wore such an aggravating smirk.

  “What do you want?” she asked with a sigh. “You’ve interrupted my book at the best part.”

  “That’d be the part when it’s over, right?” He never tired of teasing her.

  “No. It’s when the hero finally wins the hand of his lady.”

  “Perfect!” Her brother looked genuinely pleased. “That’s what I need help with…talking to Lirris. She still won’t give me the time of day.”

  “You never have trouble finding things to say,” she countered. “It’s being quiet, you have trouble with.”

  “Ha ha. Funny.” He plopped down on the bench next to her, snatching the book from her hands.

  “Give that back!” She reached for it, but he swatted her hand away.

  “All this mushy stuff you read. That’s what I need right now. Whenever I try courting Lirris, she just turns her nose up and calls me a child.”

  “She is several years older.”

  “But I’m an adult now,” he protested.

  “Just barely. Your passage rites were only a few months ago.”