Dragon Blood

PROLOGUE

Second Age, Year 918

THE FIRE IN THE STONE PIT FLICKERED MERRILY, lending Helkryvt’s lean face the appearance of calm. He raised his purple eyes and glowered across the flames at Ghokarian. The pale dragon was surrounded by tribesmen celebrating the impending end of their journey. Beledine stood beside him, her face alight with quiet pride as she stared at her constant companion, the dragon who shared part of her soul.

It doesn’t mean anything

, Helkryvt told himself for the hundredth time.

She loves me.

Yet he couldn’t make himself believe that anymore. Ghokarian said something and Beledine threw back her head to laugh. Waves of red-gold hair spilled over her shoulders, catching the firelight so they shone like flames themselves.

Helkryvt’s fingers contracted into fists. People revered Ghokarian because he was a dragon. He was powerful, yes, but what had he

done

? Been born? That was no reason to worship him. Helkryvt had wielded miracles beyond anyone’s reckoning, yet no one groveled at his feet or sang his praises around bonfires.

Ghokarian saved my life.

The memory of that fateful sun stung with bitter shame. When Helkryvt had been grievously wounded in the war against the eastern tribes, Beledine had begged her dragon to give him blood to keep him from dying.

Technically Beledine saved me. The worm only helped because she asked him to. He would have happily watched me perish. I owe him nothing.

“Helkryvt?” A musical voice pulled him from his brooding. He looked up and found Beledine before him. She bore the wear of past battles on her russet skin. Two grisly scars stretched across her otherwise smooth cheeks, marking where her old tribe had branded her as a mage.

He rose to embrace her. He was tall and powerful, and Beledine—who was small and slight of figure—felt like a fragile treasure in his grasp. Holding her was bittersweet; it reminded him of better times, when their relationship had not been strained and confusing.

“Ghokarian says there’s a chance we’ll reach the city tomorrow,” she said, pulling away. “We’ll finally be in a peaceful place. Think of how much we’ll learn!”

“I can’t wait,” Helkryvt lied. He wanted nothing less than to be trapped in a crowded oasis packed with simpletons. He wished to stay in the north, working with the allied forces Beledine had brokered for the war—but she’d turned her back on warfare, and her people had followed her.

Beledine graced him with a gentle smile. “Don’t be afraid.”

Helkryvt bit back a harsh response. For all the time they’d spent together, she still had no idea who he was. He had never once been afraid—with the possible exception of the time Ghokarian had saved him—and he never would be.

“Life in the nation-states isn’t like the life we knew as nomads,” she continued. “The Norythian Tribe welcomes newcomers, especially those who can offer something. We have Mota, Embre, and Lykora. We have you. And of course, we have Ghokarian.”

Helkryvt’s bubble of pride popped, releasing a torrent of jealousy. The way she said Ghokarian’s name made his blood burn.

Beledine brushed his black hair—which had grown long on the road—from his brow. <What troubles you?> she asked telepathically, her thoughts magically winding their way into his head.

<It will be one full cycle tomorrow,> he replied. <One cycle we’ve been together.>

Her violet eyes grew over-bright, gleaming with a film of tears. “Oh Helkryvt . . . how did you ever keep track of the time?”

“I have counted every sun I spent with you,” he said, cupping her chin with one strong hand. “I cherish every moment we’re together.”

“The war took its toll on me. My focus was on our tribe, on keeping us together—keeping us alive—but that’s no excuse. I’ll make it up to you.”

He nodded, pleased. “We can celebrate and—”

“I must remind Ghokarian,” she exclaimed. “Should I ask for his blessing?”

Helkryvt didn’t trust himself to speak. He yearned to scream at her, shake sense into her, forbid her from doing any such thing . . . but she was Chieftain of the Araxi Tribe, and therefore his superior—a fact which didn’t sit well with him. He gritted his teeth and nodded stiffly. Beledine grinned and twirled away, gone like a leaf in a summer wind, off to speak to her dragon.

Something ugly boiled through Helkryvt. He hated Ghokarian. He hated the people around Ghokarian, every fool in the world who felt the smallest amount of respect for Ghokarian, and—this frightened him most of all—he hated Beledine. Because she valued her bond with Ghokarian more than she valued her relationship with Helkryvt.

That thought was enough to send him over the edge. Simmering with suppressed rage, he strode out of the firelight.

It wasn’t long before the canyon walls stood between him and the noise of the tribe. He walked until he came to the edge of a cliff. Far to the left, the Norythian Mountains were little more than a bump on the horizon—there was no chance of reaching the human city nestled amid those grand peaks by tomorrow. Ghokarian had lied to Beledine.

Beledine’s voice suddenly echoed through the rocky ravine. Helkryvt automatically opened his mouth to respond, but paused before he did so. She was talking about him—why? And to whom?

Heart constricting with suspicion, Helkryvt stole behind a boulder as Beledine rounded the bend, Ghokarian plodding dutifully by her side.

“I saw him come this way,” she was saying. “He’s been on edge since the war ended, but he won’t tell me what’s bothering him. You know how stubborn he is.”

Anger flared anew in Helkryvt. He might have brushed it off if she’d said such a thing to his face, but her words took on a sinister meaning when spoken in secret to her dragon.

“He may want to be alone,” said Ghokarian, “in which case we should leave him be.”

“If only I had the luxury of alone time,” Beledine muttered. “There’s no rest for a chieftain. I still feel out of place in this position.”

“It is a well-deserved honor, Beledine.”

“I thank you for saying that, but I’ve made many mistakes.”

“You’re human,” he quipped, coaxing a laugh from her. “No one expects you to be flawless. A great leader may not always know the right thing to do, but she always cares about doing the right thing.”

They stopped and stared across the empty wastes. Helkryvt tensed in anticipation. He longed to do something, but was unable to decide what.

“I

am

out of place in this world,” Beledine murmured, leaning against the dragon’s sturdy frame. “But I am glad of it. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

Ghokarian bent his neck and touched his snout to the top of her head, his breath rustling her hair. “Your words warm my soul.”

It was like the two of them were taking turns twisting a dagger into Helkryvt’s heart. Revulsion spread through him like poison.

Beledine stood on tiptoe to whisper something in Ghokarian’s ear, and he nodded.

“It would give me great joy.”

She smiled—not the slow, burdened smile she wore as chieftain, but the fierce and wild smile Helkryvt had fallen in love with, the smile that lit her face with the radiance of the sun.

“I love you, Ghokarian,” she proclaimed.

It was what Helkryvt had been waiting for. He’d waited for it like a vulture waits for its prey to fall dead. This confirmed his suspicions. There was no more escaping the truth, no more making excuses.

The dragon raised a paw silhouetted in silver-blue moonlight. Before he could touch Beledine, he roared in pain—a black arrow had sliced through the darkness and burrowed in his shoulder. Dark purple blood spurted from the wound as he collapsed, clawing at the projectile protruding from the vulnerable flesh near his wing joint. Beledine shrieked and dropped beside her bondmate, reaching for the weapon to wrench it free.

“Beledine.”

She jerked around, and Ghokarian raised his head to see who’d addressed her.

“Helkryvt,” she gasped, “thank the gods you’ve come. We’re under attack!”

Helkryvt strode forward, bow in hand. Beledine reached for him, naïve as ever, but a furious rumble of comprehension rippled through her dragon.

“It was you,” Ghokarian growled. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Ghokarian, be still,” said Beledine. “Helkryvt is here to help.”

The beast ignored her. “Well, human? Speak! You’ve committed the greatest sin—”

“Nay,

you

have committed the greatest sin,” spat Helkryvt. “Deceit, perversion, betrayal. May the Shadow take you and be done with you!”

“I’m not the one taken by the Shadow,” hissed Ghokarian. “I knew from the moment Beledine met you that you’d hurt her. You are evil.”

Beledine’s scream shattered the night. Her voice pierced Helkryvt as surely as his second arrow pierced Ghokarian’s left eye, lodging itself in the monster’s brain up to its feathered shaft. Ghokarian dropped and hit the sun-parched stone, silent at last.

It was only then that Helkryvt, caught in the gale of dark emotion twisting his heart, heard a commotion from the far end of the canyon. Beledine had been loud enough to wake the dead, so the tribe would be coming to investigate. She was now sobbing over Ghokarian’s body—she’d always been sentimental. Tears couldn’t bring back what she’d lost.

She stood and turned so quickly that Helkryvt was taken unawares. Fire streamed from her hands, ribbons twirling thick and bright. They wrapped around him, constricting like snakes but not quite touching.

“Why, Helkryvt?”

“You have to ask? You made me believe you loved me—”

“I

do

love you,” she wailed, tearing at her hair. “I did, I—all the things we worked on, the things we wanted . . . the promises you made, the things you said—”

“Don’t play the victim. You chose him over me. You said you loved him. What darkness resides in your heart, that you would choose to be with one of

them

, these monsters who use us and destroy us in the process?”

She stood stunned, her chest rising and falling with broken breaths. “He was to stand in as my family and give me away to you. Of course I love him—he is the only father I’ve ever known. He is my

bondmate

. You should understand that!” A fresh sob worked its way through her, and she sagged with a crushing, damning realization: “But perhaps you are incapable of understanding any kind of love at all.”

Helkryvt didn’t stop to think. He no longer wanted to look at the girl before him, this barefaced liar, this traitor above all traitors. He needed to be rid of her presence. Reaching for his magicsource, he wielded to extinguish Beledine’s fire spell. Before she had time to counter-wield, he drew an arrow from his quiver, pulled it against his bowstring, and released it.

Beledine went limp and collapsed next to Ghokarian. Blood blossomed from her breast around the shaft of a third black arrow.

“What—!”

Helkryvt had been so distracted that he hadn’t heard his comrades approaching on the canyon trail. It was the smaller night unit, led by Malek. A few tribesmen gasped. Retching sounds announced someone being sick. Helkryvt’s sharp ears caught a tearful, whispered prayer. He sneered in contempt. They were pathetic, always had been.

“Helkryvt . . . ” Malek’s voice was empty and haunted. He stared from Helkryvt to the crumpled bodies by the cliff. “What have you done?”

“Only what was necessary,” said Helkryvt. “Your chieftain and her dragon deserved what they got.”

“You have committed the greatest sin. You killed—”

Twang!

Before Malek could finish his sentence, Helkryvt put an arrow in his throat. Malek scrabbled at his torn jugular for a few frenzied moments. He sank to his knees, choking on his blood, then fell flat on his face. The force of his fall drove the arrowhead clean through his neck.

Helkryvt smiled; he’d never liked Malek.

“Traitor,” someone cried into the horrified silence.

“Murderer!”

“He’s taken by the Shadow!”

The unit rushed Helkryvt. He wasn’t worried; he was stronger than all of them combined. He attacked them with magic as he pulled more arrows from his quiver, felling Rotys and Aev—people who’d once been his teammates, his brothers, his friends.

No. They were never my friends. It was Beledine they followed. Beledine they loved. How many of them did she deceive? How many of them were snared in her spell?

As the unit closed in, Helkryvt drew Nighttalon, his magnificent black-silver sword. Saanug tried to block a blow from Nighttalon with an earthen shield. Helkryvt tore through the spell with his own magic and ripped the older man’s chest open with a swipe of his mighty blade. He wielded and slashed without restraint, heedless of whether it was male or female, young or old whom he felled. Weak and useless, every last one of them.

And then—Helkryvt blinked. Not a single person was left standing. The ground was black with blood. The stillness of the night settled on the clifftop once more.

A piteous gurgle rose behind him. Helkryvt turned, his fur cloak trailing across entrails and broken bodies. He froze, caught halfway between revulsion and shock. Ghokarian was

awake

, and he was crying over Beledine. No, not crying—he was bleeding. Blood oozed from his left eye socket, dark droplets dribbling onto Beledine’s parted lips.

“I thought bonded dragons were supposed to be easy to kill,” snarled Helkryvt.

“I am strong enough that I might survive, but Beledine is fading.”

A fresh surge of hatred rose in Helkryvt. “Go on, then. Despite being a mediocre wielder, people worship the ground you walk on. Save her, if you’re so clever.”

“Timemagic can only do so much.” Ghokarian stared at Beledine, and the expression on his scaly face made Helkryvt want to scream—or possibly weep. “She needs lifemagic, too. Helkryvt, you and I can save her together. You have the power.”

The dragon looked up again. His one remaining eye glinted in the moonlight, emotions flashing through it faster than Helkryvt could read them. “Help me. I . . . I beg you.”

Helkryvt hesitated. No matter how deeply Beledine had hurt him, he couldn’t deny his love for her. It was in his heart, his soul, his very blood. He approached, gazing at the face he so adored. They could move past this, couldn’t they? He would forgive her disloyalty, she would forgive his attack, and the world would be right again.

Then a light appeared, washing Beledine with an eerie purple hue. Ghokarian’s eye was glowing. Surely that meant the creature was wielding some foul magic, and Helkryvt reacted like lightning. Before Ghokarian had time to complete a spell, Helkryvt struck with his sword, lopping off the dragon’s head. It thudded to the ground next to Beledine and the purple eye dimmed, light and life snuffed out in a heartbeat.

Silence reigned once more. Triumph sang in Helkryvt’s veins as he surveyed his handiwork. “It wasn’t hard to kill you after all,” he panted. “So ends Ghokarian Equilumos.”

The smile faded from his lips as he stared. Something alien was gnawing at the feeling of triumph, fighting to take its place. Beledine lay unmoving, the gray fur of her toga slick with ruby liquid. A trickle of dragon blood ran from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes, which had once been vibrant and full of fire, were closed forever.

Helkryvt had killed the only woman he’d ever loved.

The unfamiliar feeling—which he expected must be guilt—swelled until it consumed him.

“Beledine,” he whispered uselessly, kneeling by her head. He smoothed silky, fiery hair from her death-stilled brow. “Why did you make me do this to you? We were meant for glory, you and I—and you ruined it.” He repeated the words in a hollow voice: “You ruined it.”

His life was spent, aimless, destroyed without Beledine. What was there to fight for, if not her honor? What was there to strive for, if not her approval? Helkryvt had followed his chieftain wherever she led, even when he disliked the direction she took. He’d lived by her side . . . it seemed fitting he should die there, too.

Nighttalon flashed wickedly as he turned the sword on himself. Settling beside Beledine, he pushed up the left sleeve of his tunic and placed the blade against his forearm.

The pain of slicing open his flesh was acute and oddly fulfilling. Warm liquid bubbled from the cut, sheeting across his tanned skin. Even in the pallid light of the moon, Helkryvt could tell something was wrong. His blood wasn’t red—it was purple.

“What is this?” he breathed.

<It is the dragons’ greatest secret,> a familiar, phantom voice purred in his head.

Helkryvt floundered around, staring into the night. He caught a glimmer of movement in the darkness. The shadows were tearing themselves from the ground, materializing into a human shape.

“You again.” He glared at the wispy apparition. “I have nothing more to say to you. Leave me to die in peace.”

<You aren’t dying, Helkryvt.> The telepathic whisper bloomed in Helkryvt’s mind, as clear as spoken words, as alluring as ambrosia. <And our conversation is far from finished. You haven’t answered my question.>

“I gave you an answer, Necrovar. You just didn’t like it.”

<Perhaps now you’ll reconsider.>

“Why? Because I’ve committed such an irredeemable act of evil that I have no choice but to join you?” Helkryvt sneered, his voice cold and mocking. Unbidden, his gaze flickered to Beledine’s corpse.

<No evil act has been committed here,> said Necrovar. <You’re a smart man, Helkryvt. You should know better than to judge me—or yourself—by standards others have foisted upon you. Humans call me evil, and they call the dragons their saviors. But you know the truth about dragons, don’t you? After all, you killed one.>

A hesitant curiosity trickled into Helkryvt. Sensing it had caught his attention, Necrovar seeped closer through the air.

<The world is at a crossroads,> the Shadow explained. <While one war has ended, another is brewing. Humans think working with these beasts will bring them greatness, but they’re wrong. You

know

they’re wrong. Dragons are warping and corrupting them. Seriath destroyed your mother. Exandrya destroyed the Moothvaler Tribe. Ghokarian destroyed Beledine. Your bondmate—>

“Don’t speak of my bondmate.” Helkryvt’s dragon, the creature who was supposed to be his greatest ally and supporter, had left him after the war. The pain was too fresh, the wound too deep. Helkryvt did not want to think about it, much less discuss it with Necrovar.

<She abandoned and betrayed you, just like everyone else did.>

“Did you come to torment me?” Helkryvt snapped. “Or was there something you wanted?”

A rumble emanated from Necrovar, the ominous thrum of untapped power. <I want what I’ve always wanted, Helkryvt. You can save your people from destruction, but you can’t do it alone. Let me help you, and I will make you a god among men.>

Helkryvt had rejected this offer in the past because he hadn’t wanted to risk losing Beledine. She was one of those people who believed the Shadow was the root of all evil—as if evil could be boiled down to something so one-dimensional.

Nothing left to lose

, Helkryvt reasoned. Beledine was the only thing that had stood in his way of a partnership with Necrovar—but Beledine was gone.

“What do you want in return?” said Helkryvt. Necrovar had made plenty of tempting promises, but had never specified a price for their fulfillment.

The Shadow’s form flickered, stirred by unearthly wind. <I need a body . . . and a soul.>

“You want to steal my soul?”

<No, I want to share it. Join me, Helkryvt Moothvaler, and together we can eradicate evil. We’ll punish the wicked and reshape the universe in our image, perfect and balanced. What say you?>

“I’m considering it.” The concept had always been tempting, but Helkryvt hadn’t gotten this far in life by trusting. “Before I commit to anything, I have to ask: why me?”

<What do you mean?>

“You could have chosen anyone. Why did you choose me?”

<Because I see you for what you are, Helkryvt, and I appreciate your talents. You are the cleverest man in Allentria, the bravest warrior in the west, the strongest wielder on Selaras, and most importantly . . .>

The Shadow oozed closer. Helkryvt stood his ground, allowing it to draw near.

Helkryvt looked at Ghokarian once more, then at his left arm, slick with congealed purple fluid. His lingering guilt vanished. If he was no longer a mere mortal . . . why, the possibilities were endless. Everything would be different. Everything would be

better

.

“So that was their secret,” he breathed, touching Ghokarian’s severed head. His fingers came away coated with viscous violet liquid. “The dragons’ power can be stolen through their blood.”

<It was one of their secrets.> Necrovar extended a hand. <I will tell you the truth about dragons if you join me. They are evil, and they must be destroyed. They are powerful, yes; but together,

we

will be unstoppable.>

Helkryvt didn’t hesitate. He grasped the Shadow’s proffered hand, which was surprisingly solid. Not a shadow at all, only the illusion of it.

<And just like that,> said Necrovar, <the world has changed.>