Dragons of Dark (Upon Dragons Breath Trilogy Book 3) Read online

  Dragons of Dark

  Upon Dragon’s Breath Trilogy Book Three

  Ava Richardson

  Contents

  Upon Dragon’s Dragon’s Breath

  Dragons of Dark

  Blurb

  Mailing List

  Prologue

  Aftermath

  1. Saffron, Worried

  2. Bower, King in Name Only

  3. Saffron, the Bridge Between

  4. Bower, Mountain Ways

  5. Saffron, Disaster Averted?

  6. Bower & the Stone Tooth Clan

  7. Saffron, the Third Mountain

  8. Bower, of Dreams & Maddox Magic

  Casualties

  9. Saffron, versus the Snow King

  10. Bower, the Stone Council

  11. Saffron, Anger Management

  12. Bower, Kingswood

  13. Saffron, the Eldest

  14. Bower, Injuries

  15. Saffron, the Voice of the King

  16. Bower, Who We Can Save

  17. Saffron, Welcome & Farewell

  18. Bower, the War Council

  The Battle for

  19. Saffron, Betrayal!

  20. Bower, Blind-Fighting

  21. Saffron, The Traitor Inside

  22. Bower, Who Kills, Leads

  23. Saffron, the Bluff

  24. Bower, Homecoming

  25. Saffron, Together

  26. Bower, Between Wall & Sword

  27. Saffron, What is Thicker

  28. Bower’s Aftermath

  Epilogue

  End of ‘Dragons of Dark’

  Thank you!

  Sneak Peek

  Upon Dragon’s Dragon’s Breath

  Dragons of Wild

  Dragons of Kings

  Dragons of Dark

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

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, published, distributed, displayed, performed, copied or stored for public or private use in any information retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any mechanical, photographic or electronic process, including electronically or digitally on the Internet or World Wide Web, or over any network, or local area network, without written permission of the author.

  Cover Art by Joemel Requeza

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, FEBRUARY 2017

  Copyright © 2017 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  www.relaypub.com

  Upon Dragon’s Breath Trilogy

  Book Three

  Ava Richardson

  Blurb

  Saffron’s resolve will be tested as the fate of a kingdom hangs in the balance.

  Young Dragon Rider Saffron and her faithful comrade, the rightful king Bower, have survived their first battle, but the war for Torvald is far from over. She warns the scholarly prince they must take action and adapt for the sake of their people, while their enemy—and her relative—King Enric waits in the wings. The powerful mage knows orphaned Saffron wishes for a family above all, and his offer to make her his heir may be too tempting to refuse.

  As both dragons and Riders struggle to return to the ways of old, from before the land fell into darkness, the evil king undermines their every move with spies and sabotage. Bower knows their efforts are doomed without a final assault against the palace, but Saffron has doubts. Risking everything in a single attack isn’t what concerns her—it’s what victory may mean.

  She knows she must overcome her Maddox nature to save her people. Toppling the ruthless Enric means an end to one deadly threat, but will she be able to resist the temptation to use her wild magic to seize power for herself?

  I would like to thank you for purchasing this book. If you would like to hear more about what I am up to, or continue to follow the stories set in this world with these characters—then please take a look at:

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  Prologue

  The Ceremony

  The Salamander Prophecy:

  ‘Old and young will unite to rule the land from above. Upon the dragon’s breath comes the return of the True King. It will be his to rebuild the glory of Torvald.’

  (date and author unknown)

  Hacon Maddox

  My brother Vance had not made as much noise as the others had when he finally died. I should have known he would be stubborn to the last. Almost a true Maddox, I’ll give him that much. Were it not for his foolish moment of weak-heartedness over the Flamma-Torvald child, I might even have spared him for a few years, perhaps.

  But enough of this. The Maddoxes have always been a strong family. We have to be—we are the chosen. Vance should have known the law of the Maddoxes would prevail; strength alone matters, and we all must struggle. The citadel of Torvald is now mine, and with it comes the key to the Three Kingdoms. The only thing which stands in my way are those infernal Dragon Riders, with their simpering monks and priests, cowering in their academy on the mountain above.

  “Sire?” a voice says from the chamber door, it must be some mewling servant. I haven’t even tried to learn their names. Why bother? We go through them so quickly.

  “Well? What is it?” I snap, enjoying the look of terror on his face for a moment as he stutters.

  “The advisers, my lord Maddox, they have said it is time. All is ready.”

  The servant studies the floor at his feet.

  Good, I think. If the people fear me, then they will obey me, which is why I devised the ceremony.

  Saying nothing, servants don’t deserve the right to chit-chat with their new King, I stand up, smooth my purple robes, and progress through the marble-tiled hallways to the top tower, where I have summoned my closest advisers and seers. Together, they will witness the ceremony which will proclaim me as the rightful ruler of the Middle Kingdom, and forever banish the dragons and the Dragon Riders from these lands.

  “Ach!” My knee seizes up, the joints knotting in the agonies of the aged. If only my body wasn’t cursed with this decrepitude. But of course, the ceremony will fix all of that. After tonight, I will not be cursed with such aches and pains.

  “Sire?” The servant rushes forward, seeking to aid me.

  “Get away from me!” I hiss. How could the oaf have been so stupid as to think I, Hacon Maddox, needed help? Ever. “You must have some other tasks to perform, or shall I find one for you?” The servant must have known instinctively he would not like that option, and scuttled out of my sight.

  My protesting feet take me past the hallways to the stone stairs leading upwards to the site of the ceremony itself on the rooftop. Even when my back is wracked with spasms, I carry on, knowing as I do how the pain will soon be in the past. The scent of heavy incense grows on the air, bringing the low murmuring of the chants with it.

  We Maddoxes have always had something special about us, something which connected us with the deepest and darkest of mysteries. The citizens of this place say us Maddoxes are not even fully human, that we are part storm, part eagle, and part wolf. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as my feet take me closer and closer—I sense the nearness of the magic itself.

  It is almost midnight and the pale faces which turn to meet my gaze are riveted with fear. My advisers stand in a circle on the open tower-top, each one with
a candle at their feet, whilst in the center of the circle an ancient iron brazier burns, releasing plumes of the incense into the night air above, the sky clouded and starless. Some of those assembled here are even my own captains and lieutenants, as well as my own seers and witches.

  “Hail Hacon Maddox. Hail the Storm that Devours. Hail the New King…” the chant continues, as the assembled advisers mumble in fear. I look around the circle, my ancient eyes barely making out the details of their faces, but I recognize the attendees from their shapes. I nod, raising my hands to encourage them to keep up their chant, letting the words swirl around me, growing stronger and more confident at my encouragement.

  In response to the chant, the magic within my bones answers. It feels like an intoxicating change in the tide of my blood, as if the magic within me were drawing all power in the world to me, to be mine to use just as I wish, to topple or take whatever I want.

  I can smell the terror in my advisers’ hearts even as their chanting rises to the skies, echoing and reverberating down into the city itself. They fear me and my power, even as their hearts were so recently shaken by the sight of so many dragons. But their fear of me is the key. I will show them the dragons are just beasts. Monsters. Things which eat flesh, and drink the life from them, and then these people will hate the dragons much more than they can ever hate me. They think me a monster, but all of that is going to change.

  My magic wraps around that fear and tugs at it. The assembled chanters gasp as their hearts shift, drawn to my will. By concentrating the ancient powers of my line I can feel their terror like a pool of deep power, ready to be drained, and the people of Torvald have had much to be afraid of; they have seen their city seized and their soldiers killed by my Iron Guard. They have watched their Dragon Riders flee. Their fear is delicious, and I sup on it greedily, letting it flow all around me.

  “H-Hail Hacon M-Maddox…” The advisers stammer, and their teeth chatter with fright.

  There. Their courage is almost gone, and their anxiety almost total. They can no longer run away, and they will do anything to make their horror dissipate… I focus all of that terror into one image: dragons, and bind the fear to the image with a single word, laden with arcane power.

  “Break,” I intone.

  Lightning flashes, and from somewhere a mournful call echoes, as if from a shrieking seabird. The chanting subsides, and the assembled people here on the tower mumble and stagger, their hearts now suddenly suspicious and unsure.

  “You have done well, my beloved chosen ones,” I congratulate them. The first part of the ceremony is done. I have taken the key members of this society as well as my own company, and used them as scapegoats for the greater magic. They are my totems, my sacrificial offerings to the dark magic itself.

  At my words, the weakest of my captains falls to the floor, thrashing on the ground as the life drains from his body - and into mine. With a feeling like plunging into a cool pool on a hot day, I am doused, no, drenched in power and vitality. It pours and bubbles through me. The second to fall is a witch of my own army who merely bows her head in terrified acceptance as she crumples, feeding me with even more power. One by one the great and the good of the city fall, leaving none who had stood close to me at all. I have sacrificed even my own advisers for this great feat. No matter. I have my Iron Guard, and I can always select a new council.

  For the rest of the citizens, my power will worm its way into their hearts less dramatically, less fatally—I will start by overtaking their dreams. Terrible nightmares will afflict them every time they think of dragons. It will take a generation perhaps, for the people of the Middle Kingdom to fear the dragons and then finally to entirely forget they ever existed in anything more than myths and nightmares. Once the link between human and dragon is severed, the citadel will truly be mine.

  I can wait. Time is, after all, just what I have, now the lives of so many have fed mine. I turn and walk away from the collapsing bodies on the tower-top, and down the steps on young and rejuvenated feet. When I meet the same servant as before, he looks at me with wide eyes and gaping mouth, seeing the change which has come over me. Luckily for him, the sight of my crown and robes quickly sends him to his knees.

  “Who, uh, sire?” the servant asks in confusion.

  “Lord Maddox,” my deeper and younger voice intones. “You will refer to me as Lord Enric Maddox.”

  Part I

  Aftermath

  1

  Saffron, Worried

  “Fly! Fly!” Ryland had bellowed at us, right before he launched his futile attack against King Enric. But I hadn’t seen blood. I hadn’t seen Ryland fall, I told myself for the second time as I washed my face, trying to wash away the memory of the same bad dreams which had been haunting me every night since the battle against Enric’s forces. Every night I saw Ryland the War Chief of Three Rivers dying, sacrificing himself for all of us as he distracted King Enric long enough for us to evade his terrible dark magic.

  It was all my fault. I should have been able to defeat King Enric, and I couldn’t. You’re too weak, I scolded myself, again and again. And yet, I was a Maddox, descended from the brother of the original Maddox usurper. The same blood, the same magic which had killed Ryland, ran through my veins and King Enric’s. Then why couldn’t I stop it from happening? I wondered, as I pushed away from the bowl of freezing cold mountain water which Tan, the Three Rivers boy, had supplied. I hadn’t even noticed.

  A cool breeze was pulling the door of the tent open, raising goosebumps on my arms. Outside, I could see the white-covered peaks beyond, high and looking unreal over the browns, greys, and greens of the high mountain wilds where we were camped.

  That is why you have me to stand guard over you as you sleep, the warm reptilian mind of my den-sister Jaydra pressed itself against mine, sending courage and strength into me.

  “If only you can stand guard against my dreams as well,” I said glumly.

  Perhaps... Jaydra and Saffron are one, she reiterated the ancient refrain and I bowed my head for a moment of peace. It was true. There was a place between us where the dragon-that-was-Jaydra and the human-that-was-Saffron became one, and in that joining we became something other. I didn’t understand it, yet I knew that it was true.

  There was a nervous clearing of a throat outside the open doorway—that would be Tan, our sort-of squire.

  “It’s okay, you can come in, Tan,” I called out, and the young tribal kid, eyes fixed to the floor, stepped through the canvas tent flap.

  “It’s uh, Bow—Lord Bower, ma’am,” The boy said awkwardly.

  “You don’t have to call him that.” I smiled again, knowing Bower himself hated it when people bowed and scraped around him. “Not to me, anyway. After all, I saw him turn green as a parrot and lose his breakfast when he first flew upside down.” I tried to make the boy smile. Tan was only a handful of years younger than Bower and me, but already had the surly, wary watchfulness of the Three Rivers people. He, like everyone else in the camp, was clearly unsure of who might be in charge. The mountain clans had never had kings and queens. They had chiefs and wise people, and all of them had got to that position by dint of being the most intelligent, or the strongest, or the most cunning in battle.

  Like Ryland had been, I thought, with a wince. He had been their war chief, and ever since Bower and I had returned with the other untrained tribal Dragon Riders without him, everyone was asking what we should do next.

  “Lord Bower wants to see you at your earliest convenience, but only if you are not sleeping, because he told me that you needed some good sleep after—” Tan suddenly went pale even though he was just repeating the words of my friend.

  “It’s okay, Tan. Bower was right. And I guess my earliest convenience would be now,” I said. “As long as we can get breakfast on the way.”

  I found Bower standing amid a circle of his advisers; tall Three Rivers’ warlords and wise women who were arguing about something. Still, when I nodded and said his name, he
turned his head as if some invisible thread connected us over the noise and the commotion and beckoned me closer.

  “Saffron, you look as tired as I feel.” He kept his voice low as we stepped away from the others, into the fresh mountain breeze.

  “Just having nightmares again,” I said without thinking. “Nightmares about Ryland dying. Not that bad.”

  “Liar.” He frowned “But was it…the other dreams?” He lowered his voice even more, until it was just a whisper.

  I shook my head. He meant the strange waking dream which he, Jaydra, and I had become locked inside of one night before the battle. King Enric had created a magical trap, using powers which I didn’t even know were possible to extract from us the location of the Three-Rivers clan. Only my connection to Jaydra and Bower’s to the other dragons had finally broken the spell.

  “Thank the skies,” Bower whispered, and I could only agree. So far, neither of us had told anyone else about that strange experience, not even the Dragon Queen Ysix, as we were still too terrified of what it might mean. Could Enric do that sort of magic whenever he wanted? Could he invade any dreams like that, or just mine because of my Maddox blood? How could we protect ourselves against such an invisible attack?

  “But you still need to sleep,” Bower said gently. “You can’t try to stop yourself…”

  I can, I thought, despite all evidence to the contrary. I had been trying to stay awake since it had happened, long into the night or volunteering for every watch shift I could, but to no avail. I had always ended up falling asleep in the late hours past midnight, and waking up in the cold greys before dawn, feeling just as exhausted as if I hadn’t slept.