Realm of Dragons (Age of the Sorcerers—Book One)

CHAPTER ONE

King Godwin III of the Northern Kingdom had seen many things in his time. He’d seen the march of armies and the working of magic, but right now he could only stare at the body of the creature that lay before him, prostrate and unmoving on the grass, its bones and its scales lending a sense of impossibility to the moment in the evening light.

The king dismounted his horse, which was refusing to get any closer, whether because of what the creature was, or simply where they were. They’d ridden more than a day south of Royalsport, so that the roar of the Slate River was just a few dozen yards away, the land of his kingdom dropping away into those roaring, steely, violent waters. Beyond it, there might be watchers staring out from the south, even across its vast width. Godwin hoped not, and not just because he and the others were so far from home, open to any who could get over the bridges between the kingdoms. He didn’t want them seeing this.

King Godwin stepped forward, while around him the small crowd that had come with him tried to work out whether they should do the same. There weren’t many of them, because this… this wasn’t something he was sure he wanted people to see. His eldest son, Rodry, was there, twenty-three and looking like the man Godwin had once been, tall and powerfully built, with light hair shaved at the temples so it wouldn’t obscure his swordsmanship, in the one reminder of his mother. Rodry’s brothers, Vars and Greave, were still at home, neither the kind of man to ride out on something like this. Vars would probably complain that Rodry had been chosen for this—not that Vars would ever volunteer for anything with the hint of danger. Greave would be stuck in the library with his books.

His daughters were frankly more likely to have come, or at least two of them were. The youngest, Erin, would have relished the adventure. Nerra would have wanted to see the strangeness of the creature, probably cried over its death in spite of what it was. Godwin smiled at the thought of her kindness, although as always, that smile faded slightly at the thought of her latest coughing fit, and of the sickness that they kept so carefully concealed. Lenore would probably have preferred to stay in the castle, but then, she had a wedding to prepare for.

Instead of any of the others, it was Godwin and Rodry. There were half a dozen Knights of the Spur with him, Lars and Borus, Halfin and Twell, Ursus and Jorin, all men Godwin trusted, who had served him well for decades in some cases, their armor embossed with the symbols they’d chosen, shining slightly in the spray from the river. There were the villagers who had found this thing, and there, on a sickly-looking horse, was the robed figure of his sorcerer.

“Grey,” King Godwin said, waving the man forward.

Master Grey stepped forward slowly, leaning on his staff.

In other circumstances, King Godwin would have laughed at the contrast between them. Grey was slender and shaven headed, skin so pale it almost matched his name, with robes of white and gold. Godwin was larger, broad shouldered and frankly broad bellied these days, armored and full bearded, with dark hair down to his shoulders.

“Do you think they’re lying about this?” King Godwin said, with a jerk of his head toward the villagers.

Godwin knew the ways men tried, with cow bones and leather plates, but his sorcerer didn’t answer his question. Grey merely shook his head and looked him straight in the eye.

A shiver ran up Godwin’s spine. There was no doubting the realness of this. This wasn’t some joke, to try and gain favor or money or both.

This was a dragon.

Its scales were the red of blood poured over rusted iron. Its teeth were like ivory, as long as a man was tall, and its claws were razor edged. Great wings spread out, ragged and torn through, huge and bat-like, seeming barely enough to hold such a great beast aloft. The creature’s body curled on the ground, longer than a dozen horses, large enough that in life it could have lifted Godwin like a toy.

“I’ve never seen one before,” King Godwin admitted, placing a hand against the scaled hide. He half expected it to be warm, but instead, it was only the cold stillness of death.

“Few have,” Grey said. Where Godwin’s voice was a deep, sonorous thing, Grey’s was like the whisper of paper.

The king nodded. Of course the sorcerer wouldn’t say all that he knew. It wasn’t a thought that comforted him. To see a dragon now, and a dead one…

“What do we know about this one?” the king asked. He walked down the length of it, to the remains of the tail, which stretched out impossibly long behind it.

“A female,” the sorcerer said, “and red—with all that implies.”

Of course, he didn’t explain what it implied. The sorcerer walked around it, looking thoughtful. Occasionally, he glanced back inland, as if calculating something.

“How did it die?” Godwin asked. He’d been in battles in his time, but he couldn’t see the wound of axe or sword on the creature, couldn’t imagine what weapon could harm such a beast.

“Perhaps…just age.”

Godwin stared back.

“I thought they were supposed to live forever,” Godwin said. In that moment, he wasn’t a king, but the boy who had first gone to Grey all those years ago, seeking help and knowledge. The sorcerer had seemed old even then.

“Not forever. A thousand years, born only on the dragon moon,” Grey said, sounding as though he were quoting something.

“A thousand years is still too many for us to find one dead here, now,” King Godwin said. “I don’t like it. It feels too much like an omen.”

“Possibly,” Grey admitted, and he was rarely a man to admit anything like that. “Death is sometimes a powerful omen. Sometimes it is just death. And sometimes, it is life, too.”

He glanced back again toward the kingdom.

King Godwin sighed, despairing of ever truly understanding the man, then kept staring at the beast, trying to determine how something so powerful, so magnificent, could have died. There were no signs of battle upon it, no obvious wounds. He stared into the creature’s eyes as if they might provide him with some kind of answers.

“Father?” Rodry called out.

King Godwin turned to his son. He looked much as Godwin had at that age, muscled and powerful, though with a trace of his mother’s good looks and lighter hair to remind him of her now she was gone. He sat atop a charger, his armor inlaid with shining blue. He looked impatient at the prospect of being stuck there, doing nothing. Probably, when he’d heard that there was a dragon, he’d been hoping he might get to

fight

one. He was still young enough to think he could win against everything.

The knights around him waited patiently for their king’s instructions.

King Godwin knew there was only so much time they should be out. So close to the river, there was a risk of the southerners slipping across one of the bridges, and it was getting dark.

“Take too long and the queen will think we’re both trying to get out of the wedding preparations,” Rodry pointed out. “It will take us long enough to get back, even riding hard.”

There was that. With Lenore’s wedding just a week away, Aethe wasn’t likely to be forgiving about it, especially not if he was off with Rodry. Despite his efforts, she still thought that he favored his three sons by Illia over the three daughters she’d given him.

“We’ll get back soon enough,” King Godwin said. “First, though, we need to do something about this.” King Godwin glanced over to Grey before he continued. “If people hear about a dragon, let alone a dead dragon, they’ll think it’s an ill omen, and I’ll not have ill omens the week of Lenore’s wedding.”

“No, of course not,” Rodry said, looking ashamed that he hadn’t thought of it himself. “So what do we do?”

The king had already thought of that. He walked over to the villagers first, taking out what coin he had.

“You have my thanks for telling me about this,” he said, passing them the coins. “Now return to your homes and tell no one what you’ve seen. You were not here, this did not happen. If I hear otherwise…”

They took the unspoken threat, bowing hastily.

“Yes, my king,” one said, before they both hurried off.

“Now,” he said, turning to Rodry and the knights. “Ursus, you’re the strongest; let’s see how much strength you actually have. Fetch ropes, one of you, so we can all drag the beast.”

The largest of his knights nodded in approval, and all of them set to work, rooting through saddlebags until one came out with some thick ropes. Trust Twell the planner to have everything needed.

They tied the remains of the dragon, taking longer than King Godwin would have liked. The sheer bulk of the beast seemed to resist attempts to contain it, so that Jorin, ever the nimblest, had to clamber over the creature with a rope over his shoulders to tie it. He leapt down lightly, even in his armor. Eventually though, they got it lashed together. The king went down to them and took hold of the rope.

“Well?” he said to the others. “Do you think I’m going to haul this into the Slate by myself?”

There was a time when he might have, when he’d been as strong as Ursus, aye, or Rodry. Now though, he knew himself well enough to know when he needed help. The men there got the message and took the rope. King Godwin felt the moment when his son started to lend his strength to the effort, pushing at the dragon’s corpse from the far side, groaning with the effort.

Slowly, it started to move, leaving tracks in the dirt as they shifted its bulk. Only Grey didn’t add his efforts to the rope, and frankly they would have barely counted for much anyway. Step by step, the group of them got the dragon closer to the river.

Finally, they made it to the edge, getting it poised at the point where the ground fell away toward the river that was both the kingdom’s border and its defense. It sat there, so perfectly poised that a breath could have taken it over, briefly looking to King Godwin as if it were perched ready to fly out toward the southerners’ lands.

He set a boot against its flank and, with a cry of effort, kicked it over the edge.

“It’s done,” he said as it hit the water with a splash.

It didn’t disappear, though. Instead, it bobbed there, the sheer ferocity of the steel-gray waters enough to carry it away downstream, the dragon’s body bumping off rocks and twisting in the current. It was a current against which no man could swim, and against which even the dragon’s weight was a tiny thing. It was pulled down in the direction of the waiting sea, those dark waters rushing to join up with the greater body of them.

“Let us just hope that it hasn’t laid its clutch,” Grey murmured.

King Godwin stood there, too tired to question the man, watching the creature’s corpse until it was out of sight. He told himself that it was because he wanted to be sure it didn’t wash back into his kingdom, didn’t come back to cause trouble again. He told himself that he was just catching his breath, because he was hardly a young man anymore.

It wasn’t the truth, though. The truth was that he was worried. He’d ruled his kingdom a long time, and he’d never seen the likes of this before. For it to occur now, something was happening.

And King Godwin knew that, whatever it was, it was about to affect the whole kingdom.