Children of Shadow: Dragon Warriors, #2

By April Swanson

Something wicked is disturbing the forest.

 

When strange children are found wandering through Fenglas Forest, it's up to Dragon Warriors Evan Carter and Tristan Allard to investigate. The children have no parents, no known family and no memories of life before the forest. What's more, there are ominous marks on the trees near where the children were found—marks written in blood. 

 

Evan and Tristan must act quickly if they are to unravel the mystery, and stop the malevolent presence that's spreading through the forest.

 

But there are some evils that even the Dragon Warriors cannot stop … 

 

CHILDREN OF SHADOW is the second book in the Dragon Warriors series: a fast-paced fantasy with a mix of mystery, magic, and slow-burn romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: April Swanson
• Release date: Jul 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393131922

April Swanson

April Swanson writes fantasy novels with slow-burn romance, mystery and magic. She loves flawed characters, messy relationships, difficult decisions, and things that sparkle. You can sign up for her newsletter at aprilswanson.com

Book preview

—CHAPTER ONE—

The Lost Boy

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Tristan Allard tread softly through the northern reaches of Fenglas Forest, on the hunt for a wandering child.

A letter had arrived at the Linn, complaining of a strange child stalking the village of Fereng. The letter was anonymous, which was unusual, and when Tristan had arrived at Fereng, no one could tell him anything about the child. Who had sent the letter? he’d asked, but no one could tell him that either.

Up above, the skies were dark and only a few twinkling stars could be seen through the forest canopy. Tristan listened carefully. There was something out there, watching him, watching his every step. Tristan continued his journey, taking it slow, acting as if he didn’t know he was being followed.

Asra, his black mare, walked by his side. He rested one hand on her back, something he always did when she was near. He enjoyed her company more than most, for she was competent, reliable, and silent, and she never stuck her nose in where it wasn’t wanted. In light of the elves’ and Queen Estrella’s recent interruptions, Tristan had been carrying a quiet, seething anger. Castle Linnivere was supposed to be off-limits. Its black turrets, atop a high cliff, were meant to discourage visitors. But the elves had barged in without much notice, and Queen Estrella had even sent one of her soldiers to check up on the Dragon Warriors. The thought of it still enraged Tristan. He had done more for Jerran than the queen ever had—and ever would.

An owl hooted from somewhere in the dark expanse of the forest. Tristan and Asra were comfortable in the dark, and they proceeded calmly through the oppressive black, using only the stars and the soft glow from Tristan’s sword as their guide.

Tristan could hear a third set of footsteps—footsteps that had been following for a while. He sensed magic in the air; only the faintest hint, but enough for him to notice. He paused by a great, gnarled oak and slowly turned around.

Before him stood a skinny boy of about eight years. The boy’s hair was dark and unkempt, and his skin was ghastly pale.

What’s your name? Tristan asked.

The boy didn’t reply. His wary eyes took in Tristan’s shimmering black armour, the glowing hilt of his Icesword.

I am a Dragon Warrior. My name is Tristan Allard. Do not be afraid.

The boy still didn’t respond. He looked terrified—but curious, too. Curious enough to overcome his fear.

Are you hungry? Tristan asked.

Slowly, the boy nodded.

Tristan held out his hand. Come with me, and I’ll help you find something to eat.

The boy eyed Tristan’s hand with apprehension.

I’m not going to hurt you, Tristan said. I pledged my life to protect the people of the forest. Please, come with me. I will not rest until I know you are safe.

Tentatively, the boy reached out. His skin was ice-cold in Tristan’s palm.

See? There is nothing to fear. I’m going to look after you now.

The faintest of smiles appeared on the boy’s lips. He nodded, almost imperceptibly.

Gently, Tristan led the boy through the forest. He found nuts and berries, and lifted the boy up so he could collect them himself. Under the light of his sword, Tristan showed the boy which fruits were safe to eat, and which ones were poisonous. The boy ate them by the handful, shoving them into his mouth.

Careful, said Tristan. Your stomach won’t thank you.

With visible effort, the boy rationed his intake, eating the berries one at a time. He looked to Tristan for approval.

Good, said Tristan. Now you must drink. He offered the boy his slim water pouch. The boy took it without hesitation. Good, Tristan repeated, when the boy handed back the empty pouch. Now I’ll make us a fire—help me find some rocks to build it on.

The boy wordlessly went about his task, bundling off into the dark without any sign of fear, and bringing back the largest rocks he could carry.

Now we need wood, said Tristan. Will you help me gather that as well?

It wasn’t long before they’d amassed enough tinder. Tristan then took out a chunk of flint and a small dagger.

I can’t use my sword because it’s too cold, he explained. I channel Icemagic through the blade. It does not mix with fire.

The boy watched, mesmerised, as Tristan sparked the tinder. The boy knelt just outside the pool of firelight.

Come closer, said Tristan. Put your hands up like this to get them warm, then rub your chest.

The boy did as he was told with only the smallest of hesitations.

Do you feel better now? Tristan asked.

The boy nodded.

You’ll feel even better after you get some sleep, said Tristan, taking in the dark circles beneath the boy’s eyes. You can relax—I’ll keep watch.

All night? the boy croaked.

Tristan nodded. All night.

Immediately the boy’s eyelids began to droop. At first he fought it, but then he succumbed to his tiredness and curled up on the ground. Tristan kept watch over the boy, breathing deeply, keeping his emotions in check. Regret, sorrow, self-pity ... such feelings were not befitting a Dragon Warrior, a servant of the realm.

In the final hour before dawn, the fire flickered in a sudden breeze. The boy didn’t stir, and neither did Tristan. He could sense the familiar presence nearby. He sorely wished he’d been left alone.

Don’t wake the boy, he thought.

The night dragon slunk towards him. Her dark head was long and narrow, her eyes elongated, almost cat-like. Though her claws were slender, they could still rip a person to shreds.

Tristan glanced at the boy; he was still fast asleep.

Hello, Shallaine.

The dragon continued her walk towards the fire, but with her next step her claws disappeared. In a seamless swirl, the dragon was replaced by a woman with dark brown skin and a large puff of dark curls. She wore black boots and leggings, and a loose-fitting shirt, open at the collar. Where there should have been scales, there was smooth skin and a delicate groove between her collarbones.

Tristan bristled. You shouldn’t do that.

What, not at all? the dragon replied.

Tristan focused his attention on the dancing flames. The slender woman in the edge of his vision could scorch the skin off his bones.

The Darkness has awoken, he said.

I know. You told me, many times.

Shallaine knelt down beside him. Who’s the boy? She bent her head close to the sleeping child. He has magic in him.

I know, said Tristan.

And that’s all you know?

So far.

Shallaine lightly ran a finger through the boy’s hair. Poor thing. He must be so alone.

I will take him to an orphanage if I can’t locate his family. It’s a place for unwanted children.

Sounds terrible, said Shallaine. Her dark eyes shifted from the boy to the Black Warrior. You could not care for him at the castle?

Obviously not.

Forgive me, she said. I forgot you were incapable.

Tristan, who’d been forcibly not looking at Shallaine, glanced at her once. She was always beautiful in her human form, and tonight was no different. She wore an expression of deep scepticism.

Why are you here, Shallaine?

There’s something happening tomorrow, she said. At the mountain. You must come.

I cannot, he said, indicating the boy. I have other matters to attend to.

Surely he’ll be safe for one night? I need you there, Tristan, to help me.

With what?

She shook her head. You won’t believe it until you see it.

Shallaine, I am in no mood for games.

You know I share your disdain for them, she said. Her hand twitched, as if she meant to reach for something but thought better of it. Please, will you come? You have asked much of me over the years ... I ask just one small thing in return.

He heard fear in her voice. He’d never known Shallaine to be afraid. He heard his own voice then, saying, I will be there.

She ran her fingers through the boy’s hair one more time. He looks like a survivor.

You should go. You shouldn’t be here when he wakes up.

Shallaine slowly retracted her hand. A flash of yellow entered her eyes as she stood and looked down at Tristan. Then she walked off into the forest, and he sensed her body expanding, scales forming, wings sprouting, as the night dragon took to the skies.

—CHAPTER TWO—

The Lost Girl

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Evan Carter stood at the window of her parents’ inn, washing the dishes. Her hands were raw with the freshly boiled water but she barely noticed; her mind was elsewhere, her eyes unfocused on the trees outside.

Up until recently, Evan had been capable of ploughing on with all her various tasks and chores, completing them accurately and timeously. But something had changed, and it could all be traced to the time when Queen Estrella’s Chief of Swords had shown up on the doorstep of Castle Linnivere ...

Of course, Ramon Subramani was no longer a part of the queen’s army, and had in fact been banished from Jerran. Where was he now? Had he gone to Kerraven, or to the South? The elven realm of Estaven was closed to humans, and Ramon could not return to his homeland of Karkarus ... His only other option was to find passage across the Green Sea to the great continent of Marrica, the dragons’ original home. Evan hoped he would not choose such a route. He’d written to her once to say that he was safe and having a thrilling time all by himself, but he’d offered no address, no hint of his future plans. He could be dead now for all she knew. And how would she ever find out if that were the case?

Evan flung the cloth over the rim of the tub when she was done. Kelvin, her magnificent white stallion, was waiting for her outside, and the sight of her trusty companion lifted her spirits a little.

Let’s go, she said.

Kelvin didn’t need any further instruction; he knew exactly where to go. He soared above Fenglas, heading west towards the Black Mountains. Kelvin landed gently beside the pool—the pool that only Evan knew about.

Well, Evan, and Ramon Subramani ...

Evan had walked along the hidden tunnel many times since she’d been here with Ramon, but she still recalled that particular time with vivid accuracy. Sometimes it were as if he was there with her, storming ahead, ignoring her warnings ...

When Evan entered the huge cavern, she found two water dragons there. Visketh was sleeping, but Lochanne, another member of Visketh’s group, was awake. Her blue scales shimmered in the light pouring in through the cavern’s opening.

Back again, I see, Lochanne said amiably. Like all dragons, her voice was deep and rich, but with a crackling, rasping undercurrent. When she opened her mouth, you could often spot the blue embers at the back of her throat, behind her rows of sharp teeth.

It’s not a problem, is it? said Evan. She spoke to Lochanne in the common tongue of Jerran. Dragons had a gift for language, and had long spoken and understood the words of humans and elves.

It’s not a problem for us, said the dragon, "but we are concerned about you, Evan. Your visits have become more frequent than usual."

I like it here.

Lochanne fixed Evan with her sapphire eyes. But your place is with your own kind.

Evan flinched at her words. Fine, I’ll go—

Is your behaviour connected to the Chief of Swords? the dragon asked, stalking around Evan, blocking her exit.

Ex-Chief of Swords, Evan corrected. And no, it’s not. Well ... She thought a little harder. Yes and no.

Lochanne angled her snout closer to Evan, as if trying to read her mind. You miss him? the dragon guessed.

Evan couldn’t help but smile. Her dragons could be very perceptive.

Yes and no, she said.

You were his friend?

I’m not sure about friend. He was my something, and now he’s gone. And I feel ... empty. She looked up into the dragon’s cunning eyes. Do you understand any of this?

We do not experience relationships the same way you do, Dragon Warrior. Our lives are longer, our memories pooled together. We do not feel the loneliness that you do.

Evan felt a constriction in her throat. I am lonely, she confessed.

We know, said Lochanne. And we enjoy your company, Evan, but I do not think we can fill the void of the human companionship you so clearly desire.

You know, I came here to feel better, not worse.

We must tell you what you need to hear.

Gee, thanks for that.

The dragon curled her tail around Evan, lightly flicking her with one of her spikes.

We wish happiness for you, said Lochanne.

Thanks ...

Sleep here, said the dragon, and tomorrow, you will find what makes you happy.

***

As is generally the case, Evan felt better after a good night’s sleep. She was filled with the usual sense of hope and purpose that tends to rise and fall with the sun. She said a cheerful farewell to the dragons, and returned through the tunnel with purpose. The cool water washed away her negativity. Find what makes you happy. For Evan, the solution was obvious. Soaring through the clouds on Kelvin’s back, soaking wet and freezing cold, the answer felt clear and sure in her mind. There was only one thing she desired in this life, only one thing she had ever desired, and that was Tristan Allard, the Black Warrior.

There was only one problem: he had no idea how she felt about him. And another problem: Tristan Allard was one of the most reclusive, closed-off humans she’d ever met. In fact, she suspected she’d have an easier time declaring her love to Queen Estrella than to Tristan.

But Evan was not the type to shy away from a task just because it was difficult, and by the time she returned to Castle Linnivere her mind was quite set. Too long she’d pined after a man sleeping a few rooms down from her. Too long she’d settled for fantasy instead of reality. Today she was going to do something about it.

There was just one more problem: Tristan wasn’t home.

He’s gone north, Ms Carter, Oliver McGregor reminded her, as he polished some spoons with a rather tatty dishcloth.

Evan remembered now: the anonymous letter reporting some kid wandering about on its own.

Have we heard from him since? Evan asked.

No, but I doubt he’ll be much longer. Oliver peered at her curiously. Is there a particular reason you need to speak to him?

Oh, it’s nothing important, Evan said quickly, and she hurried out of the kitchen, not seeing the knowing look on Oliver’s face.

She spent the remainder of the day pacing her room. Already she could feel the optimism of that morning fading away, but she was determined to keep a hold of it. She suspected that if she went to sleep that night without having done anything, she’d wake in the morning and go back to her old ways of smothering her feelings. No, she decided, not any more.

She left a note for Skye on the dining table and then roused Kelvin.

We’re going north, she told him. To the village of Fereng.

Kelvin shook his white mane. This was a strange request, but it was his duty to serve his Warrior, so off he flew, heading straight into the wind.

Even flying at full speed it took the entire night to reach Fereng, and when Evan arrived, she was ready to collapse in a heap. Luckily the people of Fereng were more than willing to put up a Dragon Warrior, and Evan had no shortage of offers of a bed and hot meal.

After she was rested, Evan felt a surge of foolishness; she pushed it down. She’d come this far, hadn’t she? Now all she had to do was find Tristan.

Where did the Black Warrior go? she asked the man who’d put her up for the night.

He took the western path that goes around the Emerald Lake. He left not four days ago.

"And was it you who sent the