The Dragon’S Breath

By Jenna Lindsey

Did you ever feel that someone was following you? Did you ever feel that there really was something out there in the dark or under the bed or in the closet?

Isabelle knows somethings following her. Shes a princess lost in time, forever separated from her home and her world. Shes alone, but not all alone. Because something from her world is following her. Hunting her.

Isabelle knows what it is; she doesnt know if she can escape it. Isabelle knows what it wants; she doesnt know if she can kill it before it kills her.

Follow Isabelle on her journey and find out if her magic can save her, or if the eerie feeling is recognized too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491758557

Jenna Lindsey

Jenna Lindsey is the author of several fantasy books, including the Editor’s Choice novel, Mickey and Nadika, An Adventure Across Time and Space. Agoraphobic and hearing-impaired, Jenna hears her characters clearly and travels with them through her novels. Jenna and her husband live in Calgary, Alberta.

Book preview

Also by Jenna Lindsey

Quest for Evil: The Magic of the Key

The Traveler

Mickey & Nadika, An Adventure Across Time and Space

A Precarious Journey Into Magic

The

Dragon’s

Breath

Jenna Lindsey

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The Dragon’s Breath

Copyright © 2015 by Jenna Lindsey.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-5854-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-5856-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-5855-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015900820

iUniverse rev. date: 1/27/2015

Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Epilogue

For my husband, Jerry,

And for my krisen, Helene.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my Welsh Woman friend, Sarra Angharad, for her empathy and whose encouraging words kept me writing well. ‘Tis very challenging to work with dragons.

Thank you to Sarah Disbrow for her guidance and input.

Thank you to Brian Hallbauer for keeping his sense of humor and mine.

Thank you once more to my krisen, Helene, for her love, patience, and postcards.

A very special thank you to my husband, Jerry Mellott, for helping me proofread and edit this novel.

Prologue

The dragons flew together for several minutes. The male spotted the castle first. He swung his head against his mate’s shoulder and then flew straight up a thousand feet.

The female looked down and descended. The castle on the hilltop would make a good nest. Circling low and exhaling fire, she attacked the castle. She hit one of the outer towers with her tail and ripped another apart with her talons, snapping her jaws on a guard and cutting him in two. Occasionally she blew flames into the courtyard. The castle quickly became a wreckage as the female dragon marked her territory. At last she landed on the castle’s central tower, wrapped her tail about it, and used it as a perch. She easily endured the meagre attacks of the few remaining people below, but the arrows vexed her.

She shifted her weight. Her time of birthing was near, and in a foul mood, she crawled down the side of the tower, killing everything still left alive within the castle’s boundary. Satisfied, she returned to the top of the tower and surveyed what was now her realm.

From her surveillance point, she watched the male dragon as he headed for a nearby forest, hunting something magical.

She knew he would not return until he had found what he hunted.

One

The rain had stopped, but the wind continued. A strange wind of foreboding. In the dark alley a bright vortex of multi-colored light whirled for an instant.

Isabelle fell to the wet ground. Mud oozed between her fingers, and she struggled to rise. Where had the vortex brought her? She pulled her cloak close about her shoulders, walked a few steps and then huddled in a doorway. She wasn’t tall and she hoped her slight figure would not be noticed by a night watchman or a passerby.

She had only to wait until daylight and then she could discover where she was. Isabelle lifted the hood of her cloak up over her auburn hair, furthering her disguise. Exhausted from the magic of the vortex, she sank down into a crouch, and closed her eyes.

In her mind, she saw again the destruction of her home. When the first dragon had been sighted, her father had sent Isabelle to the village to hide. He had decided to fight, hoping that would give Isabelle time to get well away, perhaps even time to find a protector. Too late he saw that it was a dragon pair and the female’s belly was round. She would attack the castle to use it for her nest. There would be no battle, only slaughter.

Isabelle had watched the terrifying scene: the killing, the falling of the outer towers. She had felt the death of her father, her mother, all kith and kin.

The villagers had begged Isabelle to save them; leaving them was the only way she knew she could help. Her magic would eventually draw the attention of the male dragon and he would destroy anything, devour anyone, to get to Isabelle.

Hoping to make her way to the next kingdom, she had left for the forest. At its edge she had stopped and turned, watching the castle burn and its outer walls crumble. The male dragon’s roar made her look up. He was already seeking her. She had stepped back among the trees, taken a deep breath, and evoked the magic of the large ring she wore on her left forefinger. A vortex of magic had appeared, designed to provide an escape. Isabelle had faced it. For a moment, she thought she heard something behind her and looked back; then the vortex had swallowed her.

Cold rain spattered against Isabelle’s face as she turned her head in a restless doze. She woke up. It was morning at last and she looked up at outlines of strange buildings. Sounds she did not recognize came from the end of the alley.

Isabelle knew she had been taken far away and that she would have to rely on her magic and her intuition to survive. Her legs were stiff as she stood up and her feet felt like blocks of ice. Her fingers were almost numb from the cold and she flexed them slowly. Then she held her hands out in the rain, washing away the mud from her rings.

At least I have protected the village and escaped the dragon. Now he cannot steal the magic I possess. She looked about. Unless he has followed me. Isabelle knew that dragons could disguise themselves to aid their hunting and allow them to rest undetected. She knew much about dragons, but she was uncertain if she knew enough.

A meow made her look down. A small, black cat was blinking up at her with large, round eyes.

Hello. Isabelle stooped and picked up the cat. Hello. Are you lost too?

Clinging to Isabelle’s left shoulder, wet and cold, the cat meowed again. She hugged it and held it close to her as she made her way down the alley.

We shall go together.

Isabelle stepped from the alley onto the sidewalk. She knew noise and people would disguise her presence if she had been followed. Briefly, she looked behind her. The alley was empty.

We must be brave and acquaint ourselves with this new place.

The cat meowed. Isabelle knew it was hungry; she was too. Stepping into the traffic of people walking back and forth in front of her, she walked with her head down; worried she might draw attention to herself, fearful of being discovered by someone who was in league with dragons. After several minutes, she realized no one was noticing her. Bravely, she pulled back the hood of her cloak, revealing her long auburn hair and light brown eyes. No one paused; no one questioned her presence or appearance.

Relieved, Isabelle began to look for a sign, a place to eat, perhaps even a place to stay until she knew what to do next. Across the road she saw symbols that blinked on and off. She pulled the neckline of her cloak open a little, touching the central stone of the necklace she wore. She stood still and waited for the magic to work. About her neck, one of the seven rubies drained of color and became a diamond; the symbols became words that Isabelle could understand. The sign said, restaurant.

Someone bumped into her from behind. The cat hissed. Before she could confront her attacker, the man mumbled a few words in an unfamiliar language and then hurried along his way. As Isabelle wondered what he said, another ruby became a diamond and she understood the language. The man had apologized.

Closing her cloak and clutching the cat closer, Isabelle watched for a pause in the vehicles that drove past her. A light on the other side of the street said, walk. Isabelle crossed the street. She needed words to read and a quiet place to rest. The cat meowed.

Spurred forward by her small companion’s impatience, Isabelle entered the restaurant. People sat at a long counter, eating strange foods and drinking strong smelling ales. She saw an empty table near the back of the restaurant and went to it. No one looked up from their morning meal. Isabelle sat down. After a few minutes, a woman in an apron approached her.

We don’t allow animals in here, lady, the woman said.

The magic allowed Isabelle not only to understand what the woman said, but to answer in the same language. He will not cause a harm to you, said Isabelle, her soft voice pleasing and persuasive. He is lost and hungry as am I. Will you not let him stay?

The waitress sighed. Yeah. Okay. But one fur ball from him and you’re both out of here. Now. What’ll you have?

Whatever you serve to break the fast, and thank you.

One breakfast special. Got it. The waitress turned and called the order to the cook. Then she headed to the next table.

Isabelle noticed several pieces of folded papers on the table. She pulled the cat’s claws from her shoulder and set him on her lap. Then she reached for the papers. As she read the words, understanding of what she held in her hands became clear to her. This is a newspaper, she thought. And I am in a city, in a place far from where I was born.

Her fingers trembled a little, but Isabelle forced herself to read until the maid—waitress—she corrected herself, returned with her breakfast. Setting aside the newspaper, she unwrapped the fork and knife from the paper napkin and began to eat. She used the cutlery clumsily at first, then more easily and with confidence.

Isabelle fed the cat little pieces of bacon and, when she had finished her meal, read more of the newspaper. It seemed the vortex had transported her not only to a future place in time, but to an alternate place: some sort of parallel image of her world.

The waitress stopped at Isabelle’s table. She removed the empty plate and put a small piece of paper in its place. The bill, Isabelle realized. She reached for her money bag at her waist, then paused. She would need the currency of this world and not her father’s coins. I beg your pardon, but I am new here. Do you know of a place where I might exchange my money?

The waitress frowned. Look, lady. I don’t care if you want to walk around dressed like a princess— the waitress nodded at Isabelle’s cloak, long gown, and jewelry—but you’ve got to pay your way just like everybody else.

Isabelle thought quickly. The magic placed new thoughts and images in her mind. Of course I intend to pay. But I have only a few pounds, not dollars. I am European; from … England.

Yeah? Well, that explains your accent, but it still won’t buy you squat. The waitress leaned on the table. Tell you what. I’ll give you a break. Take your foreign money to the end of the block. There’s a pawn shop there. He’ll exchange your fancy pounds. And if you’re broke, he’ll buy that necklace, or one or two of those rings you’re wearing.

Isabelle put her left hand to the necklace she wore. The collar of her cloak was high, but the center ruby—the largest, encircled with small diamonds—was slightly visible. She pulled the collar tight against her neck. She couldn’t sell her necklace, not yet. But she would need proper money to pay for lodging and meals. Isabelle looked down at the rings on her fingers. Thank you. I will go now and return with the correct payment.

The waitress nodded. Uh-huh. Well, I’ll just keep the cat until you do. She reached for the little black cat on Isabelle’s lap. It hissed and scratched at her, but the waitress held it by the scruff on the back of its neck. I’ll put him in the back, in the storage room.

Isabelle slid from the booth and stood up. Very well. I will make the exchange of monies and return. She looked at the cat. I will not be long, little one. She stroked its head between its ears.

The cat meowed. Isabelle turned and took the paper from the table. May I take this?

Plate in one hand, cat in the other, the waitress glanced around the cafe; the early morning rush had slowed. Yeah, all right. It’s not like I don’t have a heart, you know. She jerked her head in the direction of the cook’s window. But he doesn’t.

Isabelle nodded and hurried from the restaurant. Heading to her right, she walked with her head up, the sunlight making her squint to see the signs of the different shops. At the end of the block, she saw the sign that read: Pawn Shop. The door was barred, but Isabelle stepped beside it and opened the newspaper. She would wait.

Turning the pages more quickly as the new language became natural to her, Isabelle noticed a section of advertisements. Someone wanted a roommate. The door behind the bars opened, startling Isabelle. She shut the newspaper and stood back as a tall, thin man with a hooked nose pulled the bars aside.

It’s a bit early, but I saw you waiting, the man said. His voice was weary but not unkind.

Thank you. Isabelle walked into the little shop. Shelves were crowded with assorted items. Part of her mind recognized them now, but she paid no attention. Her gaze dropped to the glass counter and the many pieces of jewelry it displayed.

Isabelle looked up at the shopkeeper as he walked around the counter. The waitress at the restaurant told me you would exchange my European money.

The man shrugged. If it’s gold I can give you something for it, but your jewelry would probably be worth more.

Isabelle clutched her right hand with her left and held them against her chest. My jewelry?

I’d give you a fair price, the man said quickly. He pointed at Isabelle’s left forefinger. That black onyx for instance. That’s a nice gemstone and a very unusual setting. He leaned forward. May I see it?

Isabelle looked down at the ring. Its magic was spent; the vortex had been a one way journey only and wherever it had brought her, she was forever bound. She pulled at the ring. It was snug but she twisted it and then gave it a firm tug; the ring came off. She put it on the counter and reached for her purse, emptying its gold coins onto the glass.

The ring and all this, said Isabelle. How much will you give me?

The shopkeeper lifted a small eyeglass from a chain around his neck. He held it to his right eye as he picked up Isabelle’s ring. Five hundred dollars.

Ten. Isabelle was familiar with the bargaining of the villagers in the town. She pushed the memory away. Five hundred for the ring and another five for the coins; they are gold.

The shopkeeper looked at the coins. He picked one up and pursed his lips. Four hundred for the ring and three for the coins.

Nine for all.

Eight.

Eight and one half.

Done. The shopkeeper opened his till and counted paper onto the counter.

Isabelle knew it was money: eight hundred-dollar bills and one fifty-dollar bill. It would have to be enough for now. Thank you. Taking the money, Isabelle folded it and put it in her purse. As she turned to leave the shopkeeper spoke.

If you decide you want to sell any of those other rings, I’ll be happy to do business with you.

Isabelle nodded and left the shop. She walked quickly back to the restaurant. Spotting the waitress, Isabelle raised her right hand and waved. The waitress acknowledged her and disappeared into the kitchen.

Isabelle heard a loud meow and a hiss, then the waitress appeared with the cat gripped tightly by its scruff. When the cat saw Isabelle, it stopped struggling.

Here, take him. He’s been yowling since you left.

I apologize. I have your money. Isabelle pulled out the bills and gave one to the waitress. It was one of the hundreds.

Hey. You did all right, didn’t you? The waitress went to the cash register, pulled out Isabelle’s receipt and rang it up. She carefully counted out the change into Isabelle’s right palm and waited.

For a moment, Isabelle was confused. Then the magic cleared her mind. The woman expected something called a tip. Isabelle handed her a ten-dollar bill. Thank you for your kindness. Would you do me another?

For ten bucks? Sure.

Isabelle set the newspaper down on the counter and pointed at an advertisement. Where will I find this home?

Not far from here actually. The waitress gave Isabelle directions.

Thank you. Tucking the newspaper under one arm, Isabelle picked up the cat. Good day. She left the cafe.

Any time, the waitress called after her.

Two

Isabelle looked at the address on the glass doors of the apartment building. It matched the address in the newspaper. She pushed open the first set of doors and stopped. There was a second set of doors and the one on the right was propped open.

Isabelle slipped inside the building and looked around. She saw an enclave in the wall on her right. The magic allowed her to recognize the elevator and understand its purpose. Still, she didn’t feel comfortable using it. She noticed a wide set of stairs on her left and chose to walk up to the second floor. Seeing the numbers on the doors, Isabelle turned to her right.

She knocked on the door of the apartment. It was a green door; dragon green and the color made her hesitate. Not all dragons are green, she reminded herself.

Isabelle heard a clattering of dishes and a man’s hoarse voice said, Coming!

The door opened. A bearded man took a step back. Honey! Look at you! Don’t tell me. The intercom isn’t working, right?

I don’t know. The door downstairs was open.

It happens. The man smiled at Isabelle. But not to worry. It only happens sometimes. Well, come in, come in.

Isabelle moved cautiously past the man. She passed a small kitchen on her left and stopped in the center of a large room. Directly ahead of her, a window invited sunlight to shine on wood floors and painted walls. She turned to face the man. He was only a little taller than Isabelle. His belly pressed against the buttons of a bright pink shirt covered with white flowers. His beard and hair were black, but his dark eyes were bright.

The man smiled. In that dress, you look like a princess.

I am a writer. Isabelle had decided on a simple background that might explain her appearance. According to the newspaper, writers often went ‘on assignment.’ This, Isabelle interpreted as ‘in disguise.’ She didn’t know how long she would need to hide, perhaps for the rest of her life.

A writer! The man clapped his hands together. He pushed the door shut with one hand, extending the other to Isabelle. Well, welcome, writer. What’s your name?

Isabelle.

Isabelle—? The man took Isabelle’s right hand and shook it daintily.

Smith. Isabelle said, remembering the names she had read in the newspaper. People here had two names and did not mention where they were from.

Smith? Not very catchy for a writer. We’ll think of something else. I’m Albright. Releasing Isabelle’s right hand, Albright leaned forward. Who’s your little friend?

Oh. My cat.

Kitty, kitty, kitty? The man rubbed the cat under its chin. It purred a little.

And what is your complete name? Isabelle watched the cat reach a paw for Albright’s stubby fingers.

Oh, you’re gonna love it. It’s Albright Aloysius Anderson. Now that’s a name.

It is indeed. May I see the room you have to rent?

Certainly. Albright turned and led the way from the large room in which they stood down a short, dark hallway. He passed one door. That’s the bathroom. We share it, but don’t worry. I’m a beauty stylist; I do make-up and hair. He leaned close. I’m very neat.

Albright stopped at a door at the end of the hallway. Here we are. Nice and private. My room’s at the other end of the hallway.

He opened the door and let Isabelle step in first. She looked around the small room; bed, table, and lantern—lamp, she corrected herself as the word came to her mind—window with pink drapes, and a—Isabelle opened the narrow door to her left—a closet with a thin mirror on the inside of its door. There were a few dresses hanging inside. Does someone still live here, Albright?

He waved a hand dismissively. Not anymore. She met some guy. He was hot, but I knew he wasn’t worth it. Albright stepped forward and pushed at the hangers. "Anyway, she quit her job and moved with him to Uruguay or some place. I don’t know. I was never good at geography.

"Help yourself to anything you like. You’re almost her size. I can take it in if it’s too big. I do a little seamstress work for the theater down the street. When I opened the door, at first I thought you were an actress. Like her—Melanie. I’m so relieved you’re not. You could be, because you’re gorgeous. That hair! That’s a real color; I can tell. Anyway, you’re the first to apply since