Vosper's Revenge Read online

  Vosper’s Revenge

  Book Three of the Dragon Stone Saga

  Author: Kristian Alva

  Defiant Press

  Elk Grove, CA

  The Dragon Stone Saga

  Book One: Dragon Stones

  Book Two: The Return of the Dragon Riders

  Book Three: Vosper’s Revenge

  The Chronicles of Tallin

  (Coming 2013)

  Book One: The Balborite Curse (2013)

  Book Two: The Rise of the Blood Masters (TBA)

  Book Three: Kathir's Redemption (TBA)

  ISBN: 978-1937361082

  Vosper's Revenge: Book Three of the Dragon Stone Saga

  Copyright Notice

  ©Defiant Press 2012. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted without express written permission from the publisher.

  www.defiantpress.com

  Cover illustration: Jesse-lee Lang, Geometry Studios

  Find out more about the author at her official website:

  www.kristianAlva.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedicated to my son,

  the sweetest little dragon of all.

  Table of Contents

  Part One: Before the Storm

  Sandstorms in the Desert

  The Midnight Encounter

  The Dwarves

  The Elves

  Greed

  Carnesîr

  Qildor

  Stonewalled

  Elias Leaves Parthos

  Ironport

  Part Two: Forgiveness

  The Return to Persil

  Tallin's Arrival

  Fighting Shadows

  The Elder Willow

  The Attack

  Clan Fights

  The Dark Emperor

  Saving Sela

  The Counterattack

  Hanko's Return

  The Binding Ceremony

  The Elves and Dwarves

  Morholt

  The Sapphire Blade

  Vengeance

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Part One: Before the Storm

  Sandstorms in the Desert

  Elias and his young dragon, Nydeired, trained on the walls of Parthos. Nydeired weaved through the air while Elias threw fireballs.

  They circled each other, Nydeired narrowly avoiding the attacks. Tallin directed their training close by, shouting terse commands. “Elias! Move your right leg back-watch your balance,” he said. “Nydeired, tuck your wings in closer to your body; you're leaving yourself vulnerable to attack.” Tallin spoke entirely in dragon tongue, which Nydeired and Elias both understood.

  “Yes, Master Tallin,” replied Elias, sweat dripping from his brow. Nydeired hovered in the air, pumping his massive wings; he nodded, but said nothing. The young dragon was still learning how to speak.

  Nydeired was covered with scratches from countless falls. Some of his wounds were scabbed over and some were fresh, a testament to months of brutal training. Elias also had his share of scrapes and bruises.

  Elias adjusted his stance and clenched his fists, getting ready for another round of attacks. “Hringr-Incêndio!” he cried, throwing another fireball. This time, it hit Nydeired directly on the shoulder. The dragon recoiled, his right wing collapsing as he tumbled to the ground. Elias looked stricken, but he did not move from his position.

  Nydeired groaned, lifting his enormous body up. He grabbed his injured shoulder, dark blood pouring out between his clawed fingers.

  “Stop,” said Tallin, frowning. He walked over to Nydeired and examined the wound. “Tsk. Elias, tend to that.”

  Elias nodded, stepping forward to touch Nydeired's injured shoulder. This, at least, he knew how to do well. “Curatio!” he said, feeling a familiar surge of energy as the healing spell began to work. Elias' healing abilities were exceptional, a testament to the years of training he had received from his late grandmother Carina.

  Nydeired exhaled as his skin and muscles knit back together underneath Elias' glowing palm. A few minutes later, Elias removed his hand, and Nydeired moved his shoulder back and forth. The wound was healed, although the flesh around it was still pink.

  Thank you, Elias, said Nydeired, his gravelly voice stilted and hesitant.

  “You're welcome,” said Elias, wiping his palm on his tunic. Elias pulled a carved dragon stone out of the pouch around his neck. It was the emerald dragon stone that he had found over a year ago in Darkmouth Forest. He had taken to wearing it constantly since it allowed him to understand dragon tongue. However, he was forced to speak out loud-he was still unable to communicate telepathically with Nydeired, and he would be unable to do so until after their binding ceremony.

  Duskeye, Tallin's dragon, slumbered nearby. Duskeye offered advice to the younger dragon occasionally, but for the most part, he merely observed.

  Hot air swirled on the ramparts, kicking up sand. Elias coughed. He still wasn't accustomed to the desert air and the heat, even though he had been living in Parthos for a year. On the horizon, clouds of brownish dust swirled on the dunes.

  “I think another storm is coming,” Elias said, coughing again. He tasted grit in his mouth. “Master Tallin, may we get some water?”

  “Go ahead,” said Tallin. “I'll pause your training for a moment.” They had been practicing drills for hours. “Thanks,” said Elias, and he and Nydeired walked over to a covered barrel and used a metal ladle to scoop out some water. Elias offered it to Nydeired first, who drank deeply.

  Tallin watched the pair with wonder. Nydeired was enormous. Only a year old, he already towered over all the other dragons in Parthos. His dragon stone was also twice as large. The gleaming diamond had finally grown in last month, erupting at the base of Nydeired's throat. Now that he had his dragon stone, Elias and Nydeired could be joined permanently in their formal binding ritual.

  Sela, the leader of the dragon riders, would perform the ceremony. Everyone was just waiting for her return from her mission to Mount Velik.

  Sela and her son, King Rali, had been negotiating with the dwarves for weeks, trying to convince the clans to ally their forces with Parthos. According to their frequent communications, the negotiations were not going well.

  Still worried about this weather, old friend? said Duskeye, moving up behind his rider. Tallin reached over and patted Duskeye's neck.

  “Yes. The sandstorm is worsening. It'll probably last all night.” Tallin squinted, shielding his eyes as he looked out upon the desert. The number of sandstorms had been steadily increasing. The gritty wind blasted the city walls, sometimes for days at a time.

  During the storms, trade ground to a halt, as people were forced to remain indoors. More importantly, the frequency of the sandstorms was starting to affect the citizens' morale. “We've been living in the Death Sands for a long time, Duskeye. Do you ever remember this many sandstorms in a single year?”

  Honestly, no, said Duskeye. It's never been this bad. The winds feel unnatural. During the storms, I feel magic tugging at my dragon stone.

  “I feel it, too. I can't determine its origin. The energy feels oddly familiar, but alien at the same time. It would take enormous amounts of magical power to sustain these storms, day after day. Who has this kind of power, save the emperor himself? But it can't be him. Our intelligence is sound. We know that Vosper hasn't left Morholt.”

  Perhaps you're looking at this the wrong way, said Duskeye. What does Vosper have to gain by making Parthos inhospitable?

  “I have no idea. I'm baffled by it, frankly. If anything, the desert is safer during
the storms. If these storms are the work of our enemies, then it seems rather counterintuitive.”

  The wind whipped around them, filled with dust. Elias and Nydeired sneezed. They walked back to where Tallin and Duskeye were standing, looking over the city walls.

  “Master Tallin? Shall we continue?” asked Elias. He coughed again. Nydeired waited patiently by Elias' side, his pebble-black eyes watching everything.

  “No, Elias, we're finished for today,” said Tallin. “You and Nydeired should go inside and get out of this weather.”

  Nydeired nodded, his giant white head bobbing up and down. The young dragon turned to Elias. I'm hungry. Let's see if the palace cooks have something for us to eat.

  “Good idea. My stomach has been growling for the past hour,” said Elias as they left the rooftop. Nydeired moved through the doorway sideways, barely squeezing himself through the opening.

  Tallin, look at that, said Duskeye. Nydeired is still growing. They'll have to expand the entrances if he's going to continue to roam about inside the castle. I've never seen a fledgling so large.

  “I know,” said Tallin. “Nydeired is the largest dragon on the continent, by far. But his size is deceptive. I forget sometimes that he's still basically a hatchling.”

  Yes. He's double my size, but ungainly, like a newborn calf. As he is now, Nydeired must remain in the city. The Death Sands are too dangerous for him.

  “I agree,” said Tallin. “Logistically, it's a nightmare. His size makes him almost impossible to hide, and he's an irresistible target for our enemies. He's bound to be the most powerful dragon in a century-but only if we can keep him alive until he reaches adulthood.”

  Another sand-laden gust of wind hit them, and Tallin covered his face with his sleeve. He peered down at the city streets below and noticed street merchants frantically packing up their things. People scurried into their tiny mud brick homes, anticipating another long tempest.

  “It's time for us to leave, Duskeye, or we'll be stuck in Parthos tonight. Can you fly us above the storm? I don't want to stay inside the city walls.”

  Of course, my friend, said Duskeye, smiling, his red tongue idling between his razor-sharp teeth. The storm is moving south, so we shall go north.

  “Good idea. Let's go to Salamander Cavern. It's a safe place for us to rest,” said Tallin. “Once we reach the caverns, I'll contact Sela telepathically and let her know about the sandstorms.”

  Tallin draped a camel hide across Duskeye's back and hopped on. Duskeye pumped his muscled blue wings, and within minutes they had risen above the storm. As soon as they were high enough, Tallin looked down and observed the winds. The sandstorm beat down upon the city, but nowhere else. The radius of the cloud was small and concentrated only on the city.

  “Duskeye-do you see that?”

  Yes. There's no mistaking it. The dust cloud isn't moving.

  “It's more obvious than ever,” said Tallin. “There's definitely magic afoot. I just wish I knew who was responsible for it, and why.”

  You and me both, said Duskeye. They flew deep into the desert, away from the city.

  The Midnight Encounter

  Elias and Nydeired walked down to the palace kitchens. As they entered, all the workers froze, except for the surly head chef, Marlson. Elias sauntered in, ignoring Marlson's sour expression. “Hi, Marlson! What's good tonight?” he said, waving.

  “Humph!” snorted the chef, trying to ignore the intruders. Marlson was fat, loud, and fearless. He didn't suffer fools in his kitchen. Unlike the other palace staff, Marlson wasn't intimidated by any of the riders or their dragons. “We're trying to work, boy. What do you want?”

  Elias smiled. “Just visiting. It smells great in here.” Dozens of prepared chickens lay spread on the butcher's block. Elias grabbed a chicken by its feet. “Catch this!” he said, throwing the chicken into the air. Nydeired snapped it up, swallowing it without chewing. Elias laughed and threw two more dead birds into the air. Nydeired stretched his enormous neck, catching both at the same time. His giant head swiveled back and hit a hanging pot, clanging against the pot like a bell.

  The startled cooks jumped at the noise, and Marlson shouted, “Watch it, watch it! Be careful with those pots and pans!”

  Elias, these taste good. Nydeired burped, rubbing his stomach. Elias continued to toss chickens, and Nydeired caught them midair.

  Elias laughed, and as the minutes ticked by, Marlson's chubby face reddened with anger. Work came to a standstill. The kitchen staff stood and stared, darting frightened looks at the enormous dragon whose swinging tail had become a hazard. Finally, Marlson couldn't take it anymore.

  “Hey, hey! That's enough! Stop this horseplay this instant!” he yelled, wagging his chubby finger at Elias. “I know who you are, but I won't accept this kind of roughhousing in my kitchen, dragon rider or not!”

  Elias stopped, but he continued to smile. “I apologize, Marlson. I meant no disrespect. May we take a few more of these birds? Nydeired hasn't had much to eat today.”

  “Humph!” said the chef, scowling.

  “Please?” asked Elias again.

  Marlson glowered, trying to maintain his anger, but then his plump face softened. “Aye, boy. You can take them. We were plucking them for you anyway.” He pointed a fleshy index finger toward Nydeired. “That dragon of yours has an appetite like nothing I've ever seen. Fifty chickens a day, three camels a week! He's a bottomless pit!”

  Nydeired blinked his black eyes and looked at Elias. He struggled to understand human communication, and he couldn't tell if Marlson was kidding or not. Elias grabbed four more chickens, two in each hand, and turned to leave.

  “Thanks, Marlson! You're the best. Will you please send up a plate of your delicious roast?” Elias said, pointing to the steaming hunk of camel meat that Marlson had just pulled out of the oven. “I'll be in my room with Nydeired. I'm sure he'd appreciate a few chunks of meat, as well. Or a fresh camel liver, if you have it.”

  “Aye, aye, I'll send the food up to your room. Now scoot, both of you! Or my cooks won't get any work done today!” said Marlson, waving them off. He clapped his hands loudly in the center of the kitchen. “The show is over, folks! Everyone get back to work! I'm not paying you to stand around with your mouths hanging open.” The kitchen came alive again, everyone chopping and cleaning while looking over their shoulders at the retreating dragon and his rider.

  The fat human seems angry, said Nydeired.

  “No, he's not, really. Marlson doesn't mean anything by it. It's just bravado,” said Elias.

  What's 'bravado'? Nydeired asked.

  "It's all hot air-a lot of bluster," said Elias in dragon tongue. "On the surface, he's grouchy, but inside he's as gentle as a lamb. And he's the best cook in Parthos, so it's worth putting up with his little outbursts."

  They walked through the castle, making their way to their rooms. Soon they reached a vast atrium outside the throne room, where they spotted members of King Rali's private guard, The Nine. The men were dark and muscled, with heavily tattooed skin.

  Only a single guard had accompanied Rali to Mount Velik: their leader, Aor. The rest of the guardsmen remained in Parthos and spent most of their time keeping fit. They had moved their sparring practice inside because of the dust storms.

  Elias marveled at Rali's guards. They dodged back and forth in the vast hallway in active swordplay. One guard swung his broadsword, while another attacked from behind. The swordsman struck out with his foot, swinging it in a low arc. The other man fell backwards, hit in the stomach by a well-placed kick. The fallen guard rolled and sprung back up instantly, leaping from the ground like a cat. They fought viciously without drawing a drop of blood.

  The guardsmen dripped with sweat, the moisture soaking through their undyed wool tunics.

  As Elias approached, the men stopped. The guards came to attention, their arms stiff and their faces expressionless. "Good evening, rider," said Annarr, who was the second-in-command. Even though Eli
as was not officially a rider yet, after saving the city from the orc horde, he was treated with deference by all the palace staff, including The Nine.

  The Nine did not use traditional names. Instead, they were named according to their rank, in the old language. The first-in-command was simply referred to as “First” (Aor, in the ancient tongue), and so on.

  “Good evening, Annarr,” said Elias. The man nodded, but said nothing else. The guardsmen waited until Elias and Nydeired left the area before resuming their practice. Unlike the palace servants, The Nine didn't gape at the riders or their dragons. They treated the riders with respect, but never with fear or awe.

  Elias walked to his chamber, and was pleased to find his dinner already laid out for him on a table. An oil lamp filled the room with soft light. There was a steaming plate of roasted meat and vegetables for Elias, alongside a huge portion of raw camel meat for Nydeired.

  “That was fast. This food smells fantastic. Sorry, buddy, it looks like Marlson didn't have any liver for you tonight,” said Elias, throwing the remaining chickens in the air. Nydeired caught three, but missed the last one. It landed on the ground with a splat. Nydeired leaned down and scooped it up with his jaws, swallowing it.

  It's fine. The camel meat will satisfy my hunger.

  They sat down to eat, Elias at the edge of the bed and Nydeired on the floor taking up most of the remaining space in the room. Outside, the din of the sandstorm rose and fell, the howling wind whipping against the tiny window. They ate in silence for a moment, and then Nydeired scratched his stomach and arms.

  Elias, I'm itchy all over. These sandstorms make me uncomfortable. My scales tingle when they occur.