Dragons of Destiny Read online

  They sat on cozy chairs, and a merry fire blazed on the hearth. They both were assuredly feeling the effects of the liquor his godfather had created, the ale, and the sensimilla. Owenisis suddenly doubled over, laughing hysterically. Arius gave him a quizzical look at the robust outburst.

  “Do you remember when we were in Mayora for your last birthday?” Owenisis slurred.

  “Jenukai’s Wings! Don’t remind me!”

  Arius tried to stand, but his godfather’s study whirled like the world spinning off its axis. He quickly regained his seat, though not as graciously as he might have ten or so drinks ago. He hiccupped loudly and reached for his mug, raising it to his lips only to find it disappointingly empty.

  Owenisis laughed all the harder seeing Arius fall back into his seat, pointing at him repeatedly.

  “We were in that shithole gambling pit. Bloody hells, what was it called? Oh yes, Alexis Ponds! You and Hunter were wrestling in the suite, and he picked you up and flung you through the wall! Everything that wasn’t bolted down, we, or rather you, managed to break or overturn! You even ran off with that dancer, and it cost all of us one hundred and fifty gold crowns. That was an expensive dancer!”

  Arius grinned as he finally managed to sit up into a more dignified posture so he could regain his footing. He stumbled over to the cask in the corner of the study and refilled his mug with the sweet dark ale.

  “It only cost so much because I fell asleep during her dance. When she woke me up she asked, ‘Shall I keep going?’ I didn’t want to be rude, so of course I implored her to continue.”

  “You are always the consummate gentleman, Arius!”

  They both broke into gut-busting laughter.

  “On a serious note, what are you going to do, young one? I’ve had the displeasure of meeting Adimus, and saying that he is unbalanced is frankly an injustice to the unbalanced. He’s extraordinarily unpredictable and morose. He won’t be easy to find.”

  “I think I’ll start in Calrisan,” Arius said with a nod, sobering slightly as the mood in the room became somber.

  “The Maji? Well, I certainly understand your logic. Their Seers were, after all, the ones who brought Jenukai’s prophecy to the attention of the masses. A word of advice, if I may?”

  “Always. Hence my impromptu arrival upon your doorstep this afternoon.”

  “Calrisan fought a long and blood stained civil war over that prophecy, as you well know. The effects of that war are still felt to this very day. A winged race has a wall separating The City in the Sky in half, for Jenukai’s sake! If you do indeed head there for your answers, I suggest approaching the Raachon faction. They will be more receptive and empathetic to your plight than their blonde haired and green eyed cousins to the north.”

  “That is good advice,” Arius nodded, stretching languorously. “Now, I have a beautiful woman awaiting me in my chambers. I better get up there before I fall victim to zombie cock.”

  Owenisis smirked. “Oh I don’t think zombie cock will be an issue. That liquor has been enhanced by my own hands to make sure you perform… admirably.”

  Chapter 4

  Xavian walked amongst the shadows of dead giants. The sun had almost dropped beneath the horizon of the Machi Plains, named after the colossal herd animals whose skeletons now littered the sea of tall grass. The near-extinct creatures’ fossils were clustered together for hundreds of miles between the oasis city of Mayora and the canyon metropolis of Rukari. The massive bones were like a city themselves, a dead and abandoned city.

  Everyone avoided this portion of the plains where the skeletons lay in their eternal slumber. If people thought that coming here would upset the gods, then Xavian wouldn’t begrudge them their ignorance. The truth was, he enjoyed his solitude, and the Machi Graveyard was his favorite place to attain just that. He’d left behind even his Blue Dragon Rotu for this excursion.

  He was a tall and lean lad of around twenty-two. He had tanned skin and jet black hair that always looked windblown. His crystal blue eyes were sharp, and he scanned his surroundings perpetually looking for a threat of any kind. He had an affinity for black that was obvious in the way he dressed. As per usual, he was draped in light black wool from his hood, down to his boots. His cloak was drawn tightly around him, and he shivered slightly as he walked. He was thin-blooded due to the all the time he’d spent in Mayora’s stifling heat and humidity.

  The sun had gone all the way down as he walked deeper into the boneyard. It was a quiet evening, save for his footfalls through the tall grass. A cool breeze blew out of the east, and the wind manipulated the grass, making it sway like a gentle tide.

  The moons would be up soon, or at least the ones that remained in orbit. They would be his three silent companions watching over him in the night. More often than not, they were the only company he could tolerate.

  Tonight’s expedition to the plains wasn’t just about solidarity, however. He adjusted the quiver of enhanced arrows on his shoulder and checked the tautness of his bowstring. The conditions were perfect for the testing of his arrows.

  Xavian was a deadeye archer and a powerful Elemantic on top of that. He had secretly been developing a hybrid magic using both powers. Through his experimentation with the hybrid magic, he had discovered a way to manipulate and enhance inanimate objects. As deadly as he was with a bow, he had found a way to become infinitely more dangerous with what lay in his quiver.

  After walking for an hour or so, he finally came upon his favorite spot. This particular skeleton had obviously been the alpha male of the herd, as the skull sported a pair of horns that easily stretched twenty-five feet across and twenty feet high. None of the others had antlers a tenth that size. He patted the skull as he approached.

  “Hello, old friend,” he said quietly.

  Gazing around the plains, Xavian decided the light wasn’t quite right yet. The cloud cover was too dense, so he would have to wait until they cleared and all three moons were at their zenith before starting.

  He scaled the skull and vaulted over the top of it onto the seventy-foot-long spinal column. Putting both arms out for balance, he traversed the spine like a bridge, gathering speed until he was practically at a full sprint. Once he reached the ribs, he hung his quiver and bow on a disc and flipped into a rib and laid into it like a hammock. Putting his hands behind his head as he leaned back, he listened to the wind and the insects buzzing contentedly in the grass. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he let himself truly relax.

  He idly contemplated his earlier fight in the Ryuken tournament. He loved fighting, but he despised the fame it earned him. In truth, being adored had always made him supremely uncomfortable. Anyone who bestowed any affection or adulation upon him, not just fans of Ryuken, made him feel tense and boxed in.

  During combat, the crowd would blissfully disappear from his attention, and Xavian could slip into an adrenaline fueled trance. The noise and the distractions became a distant hum and were replaced with his pounding heart and his calm, even breathing. Unfortunately, once the fight concluded, the incessant clamoring of the spectators would return, and his head would begin to throb. Even now, hours after the fight, he still felt that familiar dull ache behind his eyes.

  Xavian let his thoughts drift even further, back to his days as a sell-sword. He wholeheartedly missed his mercenary lifestyle. It had offered him the freedom and the life of a man that could do as he pleased. It was a selfish life once he actually contemplated it long enough, but he didn’t care.

  As a mercenary, he had fought mostly for the nobles. If anyone could understand the need for fulfilling selfish wants, it was that crowd. Back before the Duncar Moon had changed everything, the nobles had fought endlessly over land, titles, honor, and sometimes just for the hells of it. He had been happy to drift freely among their callow and petty squabbles. He had been quite happy collecting their gold too.

  All alone out in the middle of the plains, Xavi
an could admit to himself that he was only half ashamed that he missed the nonchalance and capriciousness of that life. He could never return to it, not now that he had a life full of responsibilities. That damned moon crashing down had forever put an end to the notion of having loyalties that revolved solely around himself.

  Arius had been the one to seek out Xavian’s services. He remembered the night he had met Arius as though it were yesterday. He had been in his tent, camped alone in the Ghost Song woods in between contracts minding his own business, when he heard the snap of a twig outside. Without warning a tall, well-built man around Xavian’s own age with brown hair and brown eyes ducked into the tent.

  He strode in like he owned the place. The stranger had a clean-shaven face and was wearing a purple vest with a black undershirt. His black breeches were tucked into knee-high black hunting boots. Though the young man carried no discernible weaponry, Xavian’s trained eye saw in his stance that he was dangerous.

  Most would have been dumbstruck by such an abrupt arrival, but not Xavian. He sprung from his cot with his bow in hand and wasted no time drawing and launching an arrow at the stranger’s head. It should have struck him in between the eyes. Instead the shaft bounced off an Air shield.

  “There’s no need for that,” Arius stated mildly.

  “Who the hells are you to impede on my privacy and tell me what there is, or isn’t a need for?”

  It was the biggest reaction anyone had gotten out of Xavian in years.

  Arius simply sat down on the floor of the tent with his legs crossed and his arms draped around his knees.

  “I promise I‘ll keep this as brief as possible. Care to sit?” he asked, gesturing at the cot.

  Xavian remembered just gawking at the man at first. He was flabbergasted that this stranger had so easily deflected his arrow and was now taking his ease inside his tent. He finally found his tongue and sputtered, “How did you manage to enter my tent without making a sound until the last instant? I have impeccable hearing.”

  “We can get into the semantics of my arrival later if you wish, Xavian, but I’m not really here to divulge my stealth techniques. I’m here to… proposition you.”

  Xavian slowly lowered himself back onto his cot, propping his bow against the tent’s canvas. “How do you know my na--”

  “Once again, the details of my arrival and how I know so very much about you can be discussed in due time. I’m here to offer you a chance to make a difference in this world you so arrogantly take for granted. I’m here to make you a general in my army.”

  “Who in the hells are you?” Xavian asked once more.

  Arius proceeded to introduce himself and explain what he and his army were pledged to do. Xavian had heard of Arius, the Bastard Prince of Axion and his Jenukai Chosen.

  “I certainly have no love for Dantron and especially no love for Duncar, but a general in your army? You don’t even know me.”

  Arius cocked his head to the side, studying Xavian for a good long minute.

  “Keep in mind that your reputation precedes you, Xavian. I know that you are a phenomenal archer and a cunning warrior. More than that though, credible sources have given you notoriety as a brilliant leader and tactician.”

  This time Xavian cut him off. “Credible sources? You mean spies? You should know that I detest spies and the lowlife bastards that use them.” He emphasized the word bastard to see if he would get a rise out of the man, but Arius continued nonplussed.

  “You’ve led five bands of mercenaries throughout your young career, most notably the Battalion of Martyrs. The Martyrs never once lost a battle, or turned their coats during a contest while you were their leader. Those are traits nonexistent among sell-swords. You even led them for three years, when mutiny is more prevalent to mercenaries than boozing and whoring. You, my friend, are a rarity that I can turn into an extraordinary asset.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly done your homework,” Xavian admitted grudgingly.

  “I always do. Now, I typically don’t work with mercenaries, but in your case I’m happy to make an exception. The pay will be infinitely better than your days as a hired bowman, but more than that, you can help someone besides yourself for a change. The people of Gaelaria are in dire need of protection, but more than that, they are a people who are in need of hope. You can help guarantee that they have a future.”

  Xavian sat there mulling over what Arius had offered him.

  “I don’t require an immediate answer,” Arius said after a few moments of silence, and he stood up to take his leave. “If you are indeed interested, you can find me at Jenukai Fortress in Jenukai City.”

  As Arius turned to leave, Xavian asked, “So, how did you manage to appear out of thin air as it were and meet me tonight?”

  “Let’s just say I have a powerful ally in these woods.” Arius offered him a sly smile before slipping out of the tent.

  And just like that, he was gone, spirited away to wherever he had come from.

  Xavian was snapped out of his reminiscence when he realized an unnatural silence had befallen the plains. The steady buzzing and chirping of insects had ceased completely. He listened hard for a sound of any kind, but there was nothing. His eyes had adjusted a bit to the pressing darkness, and he sat up and squinted into the night seeking the source of the sudden hush.

  A pair of glowing green lights had appeared in the darkness directly to his right. Xavian strained to make out what they were before realizing they were eyes. He was being watched by something in the darkness. He adjusted himself so he was crouched onto the balls of his feet, readying himself in case he needed to spring into action. The eyes were at least two hundred yards away by his estimation, and they didn’t move or even blink. He was being hunted.

  Xavian slowly reached up and grabbed his quiver and his bow, subconsciously checking that his throwing knives and two short swords were in their proper places.

  Just as he pulled an arrow out of the quiver and knocked it to his bowstring, a dozen more pair of eyes flashed into view all around him. He did a quick three sixty-degree scan of his surroundings and calculated that eighteen figures had him surrounded. Guttural growling and primal snarls broke the silence. The hair on Xavian’s neck stood up of its own volition at the terrible sounds. A howl pierced the night and the beasts charged in unison.

  Xavian got his first glimpse of the predators that had stalked him to his sanctuary. They were all a minimum of fifteen feet tall, with most of them standing taller than that. They were exceptionally long limbed and hairless. Each of them had dark skin and elongated heads that held bat like ears. The nearest beast had its teeth bared, and he could plainly see all of their fangs were akin to daggers. More frightening than the teeth were the claws, each of which were the size of his torso.

  It wasn’t how he originally planned to test out his new arrows, but Xavian figured that this was as good of a way as any. He drew and loosed a fire arrow. It struck home on one of the charging monsters, and the flames engulfed it immediately. It screeched a shrill death cry before hastily crumpling into a pile of smoldering ashes. Its packmates went into a frenzy, howling and roaring in a chilling display.

  Xavian quickly hooked his bow and quiver to his shoulder straps and leapt up, grabbing handholds on the spinal column above him. He swung his legs backwards and forwards, building up momentum until he was able to catapult himself into a backflip. He landed atop the dead colossus and pulled his bow out again, but his time he drew forth a mimic arrow and loosed it at the first members of the pack that began to climb after him. The astonishing speed and dexterity with which these creatures were able to move was truly horrifying. The arrow, once in flight, split into ten and pincushioned three of them.

  Four down, fourteen to go, thought Xavian.

  He sprinted the length of the spinal column while keeping a wary eye on his pursuers. They all had made it onto his Machi skeleton, so he pulled and released an ice arrow as he ran. It caught one in the head, encasing it entirely as
it fell to the grass. When it landed, its head exploded into a pile of crystallized mush.

  Sweat dripped from Xavian’s brow despite the coolness of the night, and he wiped it away with his sleeve irritably. If the smallest drop fell into his eyes, it could bluster a kill shot. In a situation such as this one, he couldn’t afford to be anything but perfect.

  Now that he had ascended to the high ground, he let loose one shot after the other. Target seeker arrows locked onto his attackers even if he missed; he rarely missed, if ever, but they were a blessed convenience in these bizarre confines. They would follow unrelentingly until his target had a hole punched into it. Four more of the monsters fell to the Target Seekers.

  Ten to go.

  He cursed himself for not bringing more arrows. He had only two more fire arrows, one ice arrow, and a secret weapon that might be able to make all the difference. If those wouldn’t do the job, it would be just his short swords and throwing knives to see him out of this with his hide intact. Frankly, he did not like his odds, even with half a quiver left.

  Despite his attention to detail, one of them had snuck up from underneath his position while he was firing on the rest of the pack. It grabbed ahold of his leg, and the pain of its grasp was absolutely excruciating. The long claws ripped directly through his calf, nearly to the bone.

  Xavian cried out in alarm and pain while he tried to maintain a foothold. Losing his balance, he teetered awkwardly and fell over backwards, but the monster held him unmercifully tight. As he was dangling upside down about thirty feet above the ground, his remaining arrows spilled onto the long grass.

  Shit!

  Xavian managed to snatch one just before it fell out of his reach. His breathing was labored, and he was getting dizzy as the blood rushed to his head. He knew his senses were dulling considerably because his next move was rash and reckless. He looked up into the ominous green glow of the eyes of the beast that had his leg in a death grip, and an unmistakable laugh came from between the sabers it had for teeth. Xavian didn’t bother thinking about the repercussions; he knocked his lone arrow and shot it into the thing’s throat.