Palladium: Onesong, #3

By Dawn Blair

A genie forged into a champion.

 

As a unique dragon born, Cirvel longs to serve an imagination dragon. But finding their rare kind requires tremendous efforts. Cirvel tracks a man who possesses a map leading to an imagination dragon and traps him in a magical genie lamp only to have that lamp stolen by a beautiful woman.

Treshauna needs the services of a genie to help save a planet from falling to chaos and resorts to common thievery to get it done. Now the Black Night finds herself pursued and captured. Following a steamy night, they realize they might work well together.

But when the world she wants to save is the prime planet of an imagination dragon, Cirvel's loyalties change. Now he must stand as a palladium between this world and chaos, doing whatever it takes to safeguard the planet, regardless of who gets in his way or how long it might take.

If you like sword and sorcery fantasy tales, you'll love Dawn Blair's epic magical story.

Start reading Palladium now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Morning Sky Studios
• Release date: Apr 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201100124

Dawn Blair

Come take an adventure with your multi-dimensional, time-traveling tour guide, Dawn Blair. Telling stories of noble hearts and fantastic places, Dawn enjoys creating stories full of action, fantasy, quests, and maybe a touch of technology.  For as long as she can remember, she's been telling stories, starting with tales of cats and dogs. No one ever dared to ask her to "imagine" something because it would send her creativity spinning. One fateful day, her grandmother, certainly tired of listening to the endless prater, sat Dawn down at a typewriter and told her to write the story out.  Growing up on a ranch in rural Nevada, she had plenty of time and space to let her imagination roam free. When she wasn't out playing or working in the alfalfa fields or swimming at the pool, she was at home typing away at her novels.  Dawn moved to Idaho and, after a second fateful day where an instructor taught her to see as an artist, her life expanded to include other creative endeavors: painting, illustrating, animating, and photography in addition to writing. They all became mediums for the way she could share stories. Soon, she had won numerous awards for writing, painting, and photography, as well as gaining readers and collectors worldwide. All while raising her two fantastic boys as a single mom.  Dawn decided to start recording audiobooks. Knowing nothing about the process, she began learning and transformed a simple home setup into a home studio, a sequence marked by a third fateful day in her life when she decided to quit dabbling and get serious. Dawn aims for improving her audio with each narrative tale she completes. Still in Idaho, Dawn spends every moment she can exploring strange worlds, seeking out brave lives and magical civilizations. She wants to touch your life with magic, open your mind, and make sure you will never be the same again. Let her show you the sights. Let's be on our way, shall we? Sign up for your adventures at: www.dawnblair.com

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The barest sound of steadily beating drums in the distance left vibrations pulsing on the air. Colorful banners streamed over the naked streets of the large city, a break from the monotony of the desert’s pale beige. Afternoon heat rose in waves off the sand-covered cobblestones. In so many ways, this planet reminded Cirvel of home.

Except for the clouds. They were far too high and thin, indicating there wouldn’t be rain here for some time.

He did feel a breeze coming through. That would bring the citizens a needed respite from the rising temperature. Cirvel suspected that everyone now was either at home napping to escape the heat or down enjoying the festival. He let the banners lead the way.

Drawing nearer to the marketplace, the swirl of music got closer to him. Drumbeats faded in with the notes of additional instruments, unifying into songs which beckoned one to dance as if an uncontrollable urge. The cries of Opa! made Cirvel smile though he tried not to. It seemed as if the three small, golden teapots hanging from his belt enjoyed the rhythm too, banging against his hips as he walked.

Rounding the corner, he came to the square where the festival was in full swing. Dancers twirled around the spraying fountain at the center while people sitting around the outskirts in the shade of the buildings and vendor tents clapped and cheered. The band played under a canopy extending from one of the buildings.

Coins jangled on the hips, wrists, and ankles of the dancers, reflecting flashes of the sunlight falling on them. All had flaring pants of sheer material, the women in short tops and the men in vests to bare their navels. They moved with swaggering and seductive sways that reminded him of a dragon moving through the Wells. Cirvel loved watching the dragons, knowing the awesome power that let them travel the Wells fueled his own magic and ignited special abilities within him.

He caught the scent of cooking meat from a nearby merchant stall. The watering of his mouth threatened for a moment to be incentive for his teeth to lower. He ran his tongue over the flat surfaces of his human teeth, sucking the saliva back in. There would be time for feasting later.

Between the dancers’ undulating bodies, Cirvel saw his target sitting among friends. The emblazoned tattoos across the sapere’s cheek and bald head were hard to miss.

A woman grabbed onto Cirvel as he walked heedlessly through a little too focused on where he was going. In his surprise at the capture, he looked down at the blonde woman. The kohl around her blue eyes gave them a narrow, almond-shaped appearance all while emphasizing them so much that it seemed they were all he could see of her face. He couldn’t look away. He barely noticed the multiple layered coin necklace around her throat above the low-cut blue top that let him get a good glimpse of the valley of her bosom.

As she danced, her hands came up over him and first opened his black cloak, pushing it over his shoulders. The clasp caught against his throat. Then she reached up and shoved back his hood. Fingers came down, brushing lightly over his cheek in time with the music.

He seized her about the waist and swung her around, setting her down on the other side of him. She didn't leave his arms immediately, rather looking him quickly over and pressing her hips slightly against his thigh. Her leg bumped one of the pots hanging on his waist. With a purring moan, she bit the edge of her reddened lower lip between her teeth.

He grinned. A little too predictable. Next time, surprise me.

She dropped back, a look akin to a frown on her face, as he released her.

Cirvel continued on. A male dancer approached, his hand up with his fingers slightly curled. Cirvel put his own palm against the dancer’s and locked eyes with the man as they circled around. The man swayed his hips, which Cirvel quickly matched. With his cloak still pushed open, his movements were emphasized by the clattering of the lamps.

You got the moves, man, the man said. Stay, dance with us.

Another time, Cirvel said as he swaggered off to close the distance between himself and his objective. Another dancer tried to move in on him. At this rate, he’d never get through the group. He should have gone around from the start.

Back, he growled, his voice deep. A small circle enveloped him, dancers never straying any closer than the boundary of the ring. 

Cirvel tugged his cloak back over his shoulders to let it fall closed around him, but he didn’t raise the hood. He wanted the sapere to know it was him.

 If the group with the sapere had been sitting in the sunlight, Cirvel’s shadow would have fallen over them. As it was, it took the group a moment to realize that someone loomed over them.

Ah, Cirvel, about time you showed up, the man with the tattoos said while waving a hand. Sit with us.

I’d rather know if you have it, Imor.

Imor’s face went blank, but his chin hung a little low. He hadn’t clenched his mouth together as someone who had just faced incrimination would do. He continued with his innocence as he said, Have what?

Cirvel feigned calm to the point of letting his mouth twitch with a hint of a smile. The map.

Oh, that. Yes, yes, sit down. There is time for that. The man waved his hand again, then looked around at his associates. Do you all know Cirvel? He’s a novihomidrak that I work with.

Cirvel watched to see which man seemed the most nervous to learn that Cirvel was a human reborn from the dragon and moved behind that person.

You could be a sultan, you know, if you chose. Imor wiped sweat from his brow with a light brown rag he pulled from the waistband of his pants. You know that, Cirvel, right?

The light breezed tossed the salty smell of Imor’s damp forehead to Cirvel. I do, but I’d gain rulership by an unfair advantage. Where’s the fun in that?

Sit. Come on, sit down with us.

The others in the group didn’t look so certain about having a novihomidrak join them.

Crossing his ankles, he sat swiftly down.

Duck? asked one of the men, lifting a plate from the common center of their group toward Cirvel.

Even from here, Cirvel knew that it had come from the stall where he’d smelled the meat cooking earlier. He reached in for a piece of meat on a bamboo stick and made sure he leaned extra close to the man he’d made nervous. Thank you.

As the group remained otherwise silent, Cirvel scooted closer, making a couple men move to the side. So, it looks like you all are enjoying the festival. It seemed like you were having great fun as I came over.

Oh, yes, yes, the nervous man said. Dice. Do you play? He shrank back when he actually met Cirvel’s playful gaze. He looked down at his feet on the ground before him. Perhaps not.

Cirvel bit into the duck. The flavor had a nice tang and the meat wasn’t dry at all for being cooked over an open fire. So, Sapere Imor, what is your topic of discussion today, that which accompanied the game of dice?

Which of the dancers to take home tonight, said one of the others with a toothy smile and scratched his flabby belly.

Cirvel felt immediate distaste enter his mouth. I dare say there are better topics.

Imor issued a throaty chuckle as he patted the air in front of him as if it would wipe away any offense from Cirvel’s words. He didn’t mean it. Novihomidraks just like to think more enlightening thoughts than us common folk.

Cirvel dropped his gaze to his crossed legs as he felt the others turn their eyes to him. Most humans always wanted to know how a novihomidrak would take an insult. Certainly, a great number of novihomidraks reacted first and asked questions later. Cirvel, on the other hand, had patience. An outlook of eternity in isolation did that to one. I would dare say that one of the dancers would be an easy challenge. I had two making offers as I came over here.

Oh, see. I told you they were hot, said toothy grinning man.

Alb, you think a fence post is hot.

This brought a merry laugh back to the group and for a moment the banter continued around Cirvel, who bided the time with calm, deep breaths.

He had let his eyes drift slightly closed while he relaxed, but snapped them open when he felt Imor assessing him.

I don’t have the map, Cirvel! Imor tossed his hands up in the air with his confession.

The group fell silent.

Cirvel hadn’t been prodding the Humline, the natural energy of the world, for information. He’d only been feeling along the smooth sound of it, but apparently Imor thought Cirvel had been doing more. Cirvel shrugged. That was all you needed to say. Bear up, Sapere. We’ve been friends for a long time. Just imagine my surprise when I found out you had seen the map I was seeking.

A muscle tightened along Imor’s chest, creating a flinch that brought his shoulders slightly together and caused a twinge in his neck. You’ve heard it. Now get out of here.

 You’ve still seen the map. You know where it was. Come on, sapere. Give me something. He added the last part, the closest to begging he ever wanted to get, with a growl and a little shake of his head.

 I have nothing. He paused and Cirvel, feeling there was more to be told, narrowed his eyes at the sapere until he practically shouted, If I did, I wouldn’t tell the likes of you.

Ah, see? Finally, some upfront honesty. I like that. Cirvel shared his smile with the group.

It didn’t stop them from looking nervous.

Cirvel climbed to his feet. Sorry, my dear fellows, but the good sapere must be leaving you for a bit. I need his brain.

Even Imor looked like Cirvel might pull a scimitar from beneath his robes and cleave off the top of Imor’s head. A tempting thought, but somehow Cirvel suspected the Dragon Council wouldn’t like it. The further he stayed away from the Council, the better off everyone was.

He wasn’t exactly known for following the so-called rules the Council established for the novihomidraks. Maybe it would help if he were more human, as the other novihomidraks were when they started out. They were pure champions.

He preferred being more sensual.

And striking with open fangs when least suspected.

Imor clambered to his feet and the sapere intended on running.

Cirvel knew from the Humline which direction Imor planned on heading. He swirled into a wisp of smoke and came up right before Imor as he turned to flee.

Genie! Cirvel heard one of the men from Imor’s group whisper to another.

But Cirvel didn’t care about their reactions. He leaned in toward Imor. How far do you think you’ll get with a novihomidrak like me chasing you?

Imor’s lips visibly trembled. Okay, I don’t have the map with me, but I know where it is. Don’t—

Cirvel spun his hands around Imor’s head and the sapere vanished into a chain of smoke sucked into a cup-sized lamp shaped like a teapot which Cirvel had pulled from his waist. As he held the lamp aloft, he looked at Imor’s friends. He bowed his head toward them. Enjoy the festival.

He felt his smile slowly fade off his lips as a tingle ran over his skin. Something approached.

Glancing about, he tried to spot the danger before it was upon him. He turned his back toward the building while noticing that the men from Imor’s group reacted warily to his movements. The menace wasn’t coming from any of them; in fact, they might be in peril.

As Cirvel moved, someone in black stepped out of the shadows behind him. A knife came under his arm, tucking beneath the lower rib where he felt the blade press with a warning. Every instinct called for him to jump away and hiss, but he held himself from that reflex to be calm instead.

A female hand reached for the teapot lamp he still held. Knowing he couldn’t let her take the lamp from him, he slid the blonde woman a sidelong glance to size up his opponent and immediately recognized her. He flinched at seeing her and froze.

Am I still too predictable, or did me coming out of a shadowwalk surprise you? She plucked the lamp from his fingers. Too bad you didn’t accept my partnership when you had the chance.

He still couldn’t let her take the lamp. If you think your knife can hurt me…

Oh, no, she said, interrupting his warning, It can kill you. A novihomidrak weapon in a ninja’s hands… that could be deadly. She withdrew, stepping back with a wink and a click of her tongue. Lamp in one hand, she waggled the blade at him as she backed up toward the festival in the sunlight. Some things are delightfully dangerous, like a viper.

If he could stop her from getting back to the shadows, she wouldn’t get away. It was a short distance. Cirvel turned himself to smoke. He rematerialized where she should have been.

She’d beaten him to the shadows, and she had the lamp.

CHAPTER 2

Cirvel stepped into the Shil’mak temple with a low growl. He still couldn’t believe he’d lost Imor.

Chimes rang out overhead at his entry. Slender, black, silk tapestries with silver symbols covered the walls around the entryway. The writing was that of the dragon language and spoke the of the virtues the Shil’maks valued the most: Purity, Ingenuity, Devotion, Perseverance, and Will. Cirvel bowed to each of the virtues as he spoke their names, feeling the roll of his tongue on the words.

When he was ready, he stepped into the main floor of the temple. The polished wood beneath his feet was as black as a star-filled night and as beautiful as the scales of a Shil’mak dragon. Cirvel removed his leather-bottomed slippers and walked across the floor in only the linens wrapped around his feet. His uncovered toes felt the cool smoothness of the wood.

A man prostrated on a prayer rug in the center of the floor, turned, face down to the floor before an image of a Shil’mak dragon painted in black on the white wall. He was neither sapere nor novi and did not speak his prayer aloud. He also didn’t acknowledge Cirvel. Ignoring the commoner, Cirvel continued across the room to where several rolled prayer rugs were stacked near the doorway.

A sapere came running out from the back hallway and skid to a stop before him. He bowed respectfully. May I be of assistance?

No, Sapere Kinto, you may not. Then he thought again about what needed to be done. Actually, you may. I need an audience with the Grand Sapere.

I’m sorry, but he is booked with appointments today.

Cirvel didn’t want this argument in front of someone offering prayers to the dragons, so he dragged the sapere further into the hallway. I didn’t ask if you’d check his schedule, now did I? I need to speak to him now.

Sapere Kinto bowed again. Yes, Cirvel. I will see what I can do.

As the sapere spun around to dash away, Cirvel snatched him by the arm and pressed extended claws against Kinto’s skin through his robes. Interrupt what he is doing and inform him I need immediately.

Cirvel could tell the sapere didn’t like bothering his superior at the mere request of a novihomidrak, but his fear of Cirvel also made it impossible for him to not go. Cirvel couldn’t deny that he liked the sensation of power, but he knew he’d need that extra push to make sure the sapere obeyed him. He could use his dragon magic, which almost felt like cheating, but he’d rather use sheer persuasion instead. Words over magic, he told himself, were the way to get people to comply to his will. A ninja awaited me at the festival. She got away with Imor.

Kinto’s eyes grew wide. Ninja?

Now, go get the Grand Sapere.

Before Cirvel had even released Kinto, the sapere was heading for the Grand Sapere’s office.

Words made others completely surrender to Cirvel’s will.

When used wisely, words trapped people and made masters of mere servants. Better yet, very few people knew the power hidden in words spoken correctly, but Cirvel understood.

Clipped, hasty speech between two men came to Cirvel’s ears. He nearly laughed to himself when his novihomidrak senses let him hear how the Grand Sapere coughed when the other said, He said there’s a ninja here.