Legacy of Fire; Dragon's Blood Book III: Dragon's Blood, #3

By Magdalena Markow

After the lost battle, the mood among the Liberators is dark. Faced with a difficult choice, Drasan finally decides to go to Washmorth to bargain with Bal'zar for his wife's life. Unfortunately, not everything goes as planned. The usurper, Riden forces him to take an oath, an oath that can only be broken by the death of one of them.

 

Meanwhile, Alt'ar, after the departure of the half-dragon, tries to somehow resolve the resulting conflicts. Velwel, in the company of Mary, decides to try to rescue his friend from Bal'zar's hands.

None of them know that great changes are approaching...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Royal Hawaiian Press
• Release date: Jun 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201307714

Book preview

Legacy of Fire

Dragon’s Blood

Book III

Magdalena Marków

All material contained herein is

Copyright © Magdalena Markow 2022 All rights reserved.

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Originally published in Poland as Dziedzictwo Ognia, Smocza Krew

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Translated and published in English with permission.

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Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9864524-5-6

ePub ISBN: 979-8-2013077-1-4

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Written by Magdalena Markow

Published by Royal Hawaiian Press

Cover art by Tyrone Roshantha

Translated by Dorota Reszke

Publishing Assistance: Dorota Reszke

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For more works by this author, please visit:

www.royalhawaiianpress.com

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Version Number 1.00

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

CHAPTER 1

A bright zigzag of lightning lit up the dark blue sky. Somewhere in the distance, thunder cooed. It didn't seem like the best time to sneak out of the camp, but Drasan had already made up his mind. He had to disappear before anyone realized what he was about to do. He wasn't smiling about the ride, let alone the flight in the pouring rain. Unfortunately, he had no choice. Once the storm stopped, he would lose his only chance to leave undetected.

Despite the thickening darkness, he easily found his horse. He summoned him with a quiet whistle. The stallion trotted towards him and stood up, ready to mount him. He also seemed to guess his master's thoughts, because he did not even move when he was putting on the harness and a heavy cavalry saddle.

This is our last ride together, old friend, whispered the man, stroking the horse's slender neck.

Ernil bucked quietly and rubbed his muzzle against the man's shoulder. Drasan took the reins and led the mount among the trees.

Another thunderclap shook the ground. The storm was near, though not a single drop of rain had fallen yet. Drasan put the reins over the animal's head and was about to climb into the saddle when another flash showed his eyes, a figure leaning carelessly against one of the trees.

Velwel smiled and moved towards the half surprised, half amused prince.

May I know why you are sneaking out of the camp despite such terrible weather? he asked, bravely pretending to be carefree.

No, answered Drasan, putting one foot in the stirrup.

He tried his best not to show irritation. He knew that someone would surely stand in his way, but he silently hoped that it would be Alt'ar or Gaenor. Furthermore, he could deal with them coolly, while he treated Velwel like a brother.

If they sent you here only to stop me, then don't bother, he said, trying not to let his tone of voice betray his emotions.

The young man took hold of the reins of the black stallion and looked at his friend as never before.

You won't help her this way, he said calmly. If you give up, there will be no hope for her or anyone else. Sometimes you have to drown out your heart, Drasan, and let reason speak...

Reason? snorted the half-dragon, snatching the reins from him and mounting his horse. The best I can do for you now is to give them what they want.

Velwel stood in his way.

Are you sure that's all they want? he asked in an already slightly harsher tone.

Drasan nudged the stallion in the side with his heel with the intention of avoiding him, but then his attention was drawn to a pair of ruby eyes behind the young man's back.

You brought him here, he hissed through clenched teeth as from between the blackberry bushes emerged one by one the head and then the torso of a giant werewolf.

Alt'ar climbed up on his hind legs, and a deafening growl came from his throat. A pair of glowing ruby eyes narrowed dangerously.

Drasan jumped off his horse. Flames slowly began to creep over his body, his eyes turning from human to reptile.

If you want to challenge me, Prince of Werewolves, then you'll have to try harder, he chuckled with a wry smile.

The werewolf bared his fangs, and the deafening murmur coming from his throat turned into a loud growl. In response, a small ball of fire began to form in the half-dragon's hand. That was when Velwel stepped in.

If you must look for the culprit, then I am the only one,' he said, shielding the werewolf with his own body. It was I who brought Alt'ar here. I thought he was the only one who could talk some sense into you, he stepped forward and stood so close to the half-dragon that the heat from him burned his skin. If you must kill someone, let it be me.

Drasan stepped back, not taking his eyes off him, while the young assassin continued:

It's not just your fight anymore. We are all in this together. It no longer matters what you decide, because we still have one alternative before us - death. You are our leader, so instead of making a martyr of yourself, think about how to defeat Dhalia and Bal’zar. If you don't... Aurelia will die anyway, because to a witch her life is as meaningless as ours. By giving up, you'll be acting like a coward, letting her win by default. Is this what Master Ashkan and Gaenor taught you? Think, think how much damage you will do by thinking only of yourself.

Alt'ar stopped growling, sank to his four paws and stared at Drasan expectantly.  He, too, was curious to see what Drasan's reaction would be.

The half-dragon sighed heavily. Velwel was right. Giving up would act like a selfish man, but he had no choice. If he didn't, he would inflict a fate worse than death on his wife. He didn't even want to think about what Dhalia would do to her, only to inflict pain on him. He couldn't imagine what would happen if he lost her. Furthermore, he had to do what he could to save her, even at the cost of what he swore to fight for.

I've already decided, he said, walking over to his horse again. He climbed up on the saddle and looked at the two assassins. Alt'ar's bare teeth left no doubt about his opinion on the matter. Far worse than the guild leader's reaction was Velwel's face - it expressed deep disappointment.

Drasan mounted his horse, avoiding his gaze. He was about to ride away, but hesitated. He had analyzed his plan many times, so as not to leave the slightest gap in it. He could not be absolutely sure that everything would go smoothly. If Bal'zar did not agree to an exchange, the only thing left to do was to use what he had hidden in his shoe. Unfortunately, here too he had to rely on the smile of fate, for everything depended on Bal'zar's whim. He knew one thing - he would not allow himself to be turned into a helpless machine for destruction.

With that thought, he pounded his heels into Ernil's sides and moved forward. As he passed the two comrades-in-arms, he caught a look of disbelief from Velwel. Trying to drown out his remorse, he hurried his mount and galloped through the rain, quickly disappearing from their sight.

* * *

Mara opened her eyes wide and sat down on her bed. As queen, she had been assigned a separate tent, and this, like all the others, was made of rough canvas. Quietly, so as not to wake the servant girl sleeping beside her, she rose and threw a light cloak over her thin nightgown. She pushed aside the canvas that covered the entrance and looked around the camp that bore the marks of the recent storm. The storm had left large puddles in its wake and the wind had blown over several tents. 

The queen retreated inside and sat down on a bed. She reached for her boots and pulled them onto her bare feet. After only a few steps she could tell that going out in such clothes was a bad idea. Despite the cloak over her shoulders, her body was covered with goosebumps in no time. However, she continued. What woke her up did not seem like an ordinary dream. She felt that something bad had happened.

It took her longer than expected to find the tent usually occupied by Drasan. By the time she got there, she was freezing to the bone. A thin trickle of smoke dripped through a hole in the roof, but not the faintest sound came from inside. Mara stopped a step from the entrance, and a sudden shiver ran through her body. She almost didn't flinch when the smell of wet dog hair hit her nostrils. The werewolf emerged from the mist so suddenly that she didn't even have time to react. Stepping on its hind legs, the beast passed her silently before disappearing somewhere between the tents. Like most people, she could not get used to the presence of shaggy allies. Every time one was near her, she was paralyzed by fear.

She waited a few heartbeats, making sure the werewolf was gone, pulled back the linen curtain, then looked inside the tent. As she expected, she found no one there. She backed away hastily, nearly colliding with someone who had sprung up suddenly right behind her. She looked back and let out a sigh of relief. She had Velwel in front of her. Something in his posture made her feel afraid, her worst fears coming true:

He's gone... She whispered, looking into the young man's eyes.

He nodded, still too shaken to get a word out.

Mara felt herself growing weak. She had to hold onto Velwel's arm to keep from falling. Until now, she had trusted that Drasan knew what he was doing. Not that she believed blindly in his ideas. However, as long as he was in their midst, people had hope. His departure would boost the morale of the Exalted. Only now did she realize that he was a symbol for them. A symbol of hope.

He slipped away in the night... she said more to herself than to him. ...He knew we would try to stop him.

It's not like that... Velwel suddenly raised his voice, turning his gaze away so as not to look the queen in the eye. I was able to stop him...I went after him in hopes that I could appeal to his sanity... he sighed heavily. For the past few days, he seemed somehow out of sorts. He seemed to be absent-minded. As if he was planning something. I went to Alt'ar and reported my findings to him and he told me to follow him. Apparently, he expected that Drasan had been thinking all along about how to get Neila out of Washmorth. But he was planning something else... He scratched his bald spot and smiled with obvious compulsion. ...Following him that night I noticed that he didn't take any weapons. Those who know him know that he never parts with his sword. He carries it with him even when he sleeps.

What are you getting at? asked Mara, not caring that her voice was trembling.

I have a feeling he's not going there to bounce her, he said in a voice washed of all emotion. He will offer an exchange. If Bal'zar agrees, which I doubt, Aurelia will regain her freedom, while Drasan...

He didn't finish. He didn't have to. Mara knew all too well what he meant. When his wife was abducted, Drasan had changed beyond recognition. He almost stopped talking, slunk around the camp, usually immersed in his own thoughts. The decision he made for the good of all poisoned his heart like venom. He could not forgive himself for leaving his beloved in the hands of his enemies. In addition, both Alt'ar and Gaenor kept their eyes on him. They probably expected him to do something incredibly foolish. It turned out that they had good reason, for the Prince had decided to hand himself over to Dhalia.

And what of the Alt'ar? she asked, trying to control her voice.

Velwel looked at her with a sad smile.

What do you think? he answered with a question to a question. He's furious. It's a wonder he didn't lash out at Drasan.

Mara only nodded her head. Everyone knew the Guild leader's attitude towards Drasan. It was hard not to notice that they did not particularly like each other. It suited everyone that they showed cool respect for each other.

It's not too late, she straightened up, suddenly realizing something. If he moved on horseback, I'll still manage to catch up with him.

But Your Majesty... Velwel whispered, opening his eyes wide.

No titles please! If I can't dissuade him from this madness, then no one will... Do you understand?

Velwel nodded, too shocked by the change in this seemingly fragile woman.

Passing him, Mara returned to her tent. The servant was still asleep, and putting on a gown would take too long, so the queen grabbed a simple tunic and pulled it on over her nightgown without a second thought. It took her a few moments to find the right pants, but she finally found what she was looking for - simple canvas leggings, the kind soldiers used to wear, and knee-length boots made of thick leather. Dressed in this unobtrusive outfit, she tied her hair at the nape of her neck and left the tent.

Life was just beginning to awaken in the camp. A few soldiers were leaning over a small fire, warming their hands that were numb from the cold. Apparently, they had just finished their watch. Mara had no time to look for someone to saddle and bring her mount. Having passed the bonfire, she turned towards the trees, where a makeshift paddock for horses had been constructed. She easily found her white mare and whistled softly. Luna lifted her head and perked her ears. Even here, in the green twilight, she was stunningly beautiful. The mare ran towards her at a light jog and nuzzled her muzzle in a friendly manner. The queen grabbed the first saddle she could find - it turned out to be a heavy one, surely belonging to some Antuan cavalryman. Saddling her horse, she grabbed the bridle and pulled it toward the trees, unaware that she was taking the same path Drasan had taken earlier. It led a little to the left of the camp, where she was hidden from prying eyes by the thick foliage of beech trees. She climbed onto the saddle and Luna, without waiting for encouragement, moved forward at a trot. Once out in the open, Mara rushed the mare.

The cool, damp air quickly made her aware of her lack of a coat. She had been in such a hurry that she had forgotten to put it on.

Not even a single ray of sunlight shone through the pile of dark gray clouds. Reaching the border of Shardon, the girl slowed down. In this place, the river seemed to be exceptionally swift, making the crossing dangerous if one did not have wings. Knowing that Drasan had beaten her on horseback, she did not hesitate. Of course, she could have riden along the bank and found a safer spot, but that would have taken too long. The council was not advised, she nudged the sides of the mare with her heels and rode into the foaming current. She soon regretted her decision, for barely had the water reached above the animal's belly and the current began to carry her downstream.

Mara had nothing left to do but desperately thrash the water with her arms and legs. With one last effort, she managed to grasp one of the branches hanging just above her head. She clung to it, still struggling against the swift current. She heard a shrill whinny, and a moment later saw the horse's head disappear under the water. The brave mare was no match for the force of the elements.

A moment later someone grabbed the girl by the hem of her soaked tunic and pulled her ashore. The last thing she remembered, before she lost consciousness, was a pair of olive-green eyes.

* * *

She was awakened by the warmth of the fire and the smell of roasting food. She opened her eyes and looked at the saviour sitting on the other side of the fire, who was sharpening long poles and threading pieces of meat onto them as if nothing had happened.

It turned out to be Drasan. She knew it, even though his facial features were hidden by the shadow of his hood. To be sure, she glanced between the trees lining the riverbank and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted the black stallion tethered there.

Mara already opened her mouth to say something, but quickly closed it, the Sheardonian did not seem particularly eager to talk. Instead, she sat down closer to the fire and stretched her legs toward him. A pleasant warmth spread through her body. She stared involuntarily at the flames crawling in the branches for a long moment, wondering what would happen now. There was no doubt that the half-dragon had saved her life. She had lost her horse, and unless he was willing to return to camp with her, she would be left all alone in the middle of nowhere.

Why did you follow me? Drasan's voice was hoarse and foreign, but even worse was the look of grim determination on his face. He no longer hid it in the shadows of his hood, and in the bright light of the campfire every wrinkle in his prematurely aged face became apparent.

Unable to bear it, the woman looked away. She remained silent for some time, weighing the words she wanted to say. She did not want him to misunderstand her. She took a breath and, trying to sound dignified, as befitted a queen, said:

To dissuade you from this madness.

No one and nothing can change my decision now, he replied stiffly, standing up and walking away into the trees. He returned a moment later with a bundle of dry branches, and began to throw them into the fire, which immediately burst into flames, shooting up a shower of sparks. Still without saying a word, he handed her a piece of roast meat and returned to his seat on the other side of the fire.

Mara looked dully at the piece of meat in her hands, and then at Drasan, who was greedily devouring his completely raw portion. There was nothing left for her to do but to get on with the eating as well.

For a moment neither of them said anything, too engrossed in chewing to hold a conversation. The girl surreptitiously watched Drasan. His every move betrayed his tension, even though he tried hard to control himself.

Having finished eating, they both threw the bones they had just eaten into the fire.

Thank you for the rescue, Mara mumbled, trying desperately to break the silence.

Drasan did not answer. He stared at the creeping flames lazily. His trembling hands resting on his knees betrayed him. It was as if he was imposing self-control on himself, even though he was overcome by conflicting emotions.

You followed me unnecessarily, he said in an absent voice. I cannot leave you alone, so take my horse and go back to camp. It is not very safe here.

And it is for you? she raised her head hard and for the first time dared to look into his eyes. Think for a moment. If Dhalia wanted to get you, would she have started this war? Drasan, you are a means to that end, not an end in itself. She wants you in order to gain even more power than she already has. Wake up, this witch is manipulating you!

Enough! exclaimed Drasan, bolting from his seat. In the blink of an eye his body was covered in red flames. I have already decided, and neither you nor anyone else will dissuade me from it!

Now he really looked like a madman, every feature of his face radiating long hidden pain.

She didn't ask me to drag her into this fight! he shouted in a voice filled with suffering. She wanted to leave, but I didn't let her! I prepared for her a fate that I would not wish on my worst enemy! A fate worse than death!

Mara felt an involuntary shudder. She had never seen him in such a state before; he was filled with madness and pain. There was no doubt that the only thing he wished for now was to be left alone. He had made a decision, and it could determine the fate of everyone. Something in his attitude told her that it was not easy for him; he had to fight a battle with himself.

Think about it some more, she said, not caring that her voice had taken on a pleading tone. Dhalia will not let Aurelia go. Even if you turn yourself over to her, she will leave her to herself as collateral.

He shook his head and sat up, the flames disappearing from his body. He seemed smaller now.

I have to try, he said in a slightly hoarse voice. I owe it to her.

Mara lowered her head. She could tell from the way he said it that he felt guilty about Aurelia's current situation. She knew that she would not be able to dissuade him from this intention. The two of them had too strong a bond. So strong that he felt ready to give his life for her.

So, it's over? You're just going to give yourself up to them? she asked.

He didn't answer. The furrows on his forehead deepened a little, which showed that he was thinking about something.

It's time for me to go, he said finally, standing up.

Mara also got up. As she stared at him, it suddenly dawned on her.

You hesitate, she scolded.

He turned to her abruptly, a wild flash in his eyes, showing that he was ready to transform.

Don't try to deny it! That trembling of your hands, that abrupt reaction, that long pondering of your answer... All of that, including your haste, indicates that you are still undecided, torn!

He smiled, or rather tried to curl his lips in an attempt to smile, and replied:

Clever you are, Mara. Unfortunately, it's too late, we're running out of time.

You were hoping that once you were in Bal'zar's lands, his soldiers would make the decision for you. That's why you languished here so long. Long enough to save me from certain death, the queen continued, ignoring the echoing sarcasm in his voice. And now that the plan hasn't worked out, you're going to go to Washmorth and let yourself be captured...

You should be on your way, he said, ignoring her statement and propping his horse up. If you hurry, you can make it to camp before sunset. Ernil is a sturdy and fast mount. He stroked the stallion's neck affectionately. He has been my faithful companion for many years. Treat him well and he will repay you in double measure. His voice became strangely moist, as if these words were not about the mount, but about his younger brother.

Mara stood paralyzed as he handed her the reins. She understood that he was saying goodbye to her in that peculiar way. He walked away to the edge of the encampment, stood in the flames, and before they subsided, rose into the air. Ernil snarled quietly, as did Queen Antua, staring at the brown dragon disappearing into the distance.

* * *

What! the roar of King Oddon echoed and nearly drowned in the deafening growl of several werewolves. The ruler cast a somewhat fearful glance at the beasts, lurking at the edge of the glow cast by the bonfire lit in the middle of the camp. What do you mean: he's gone?

That was his decision, the Alt'ar stated calmly. His eyes, like those of his subordinates, were glowing like red-hot coals, but unlike them he maintained control over his wolf nature. He has decided to leave, and we must respect that, he added with emphasis.

Respect it? snorted King Earden with contempt. That irresponsible snot called me a coward! he growled through clenched teeth. And now you... He threw the Guild leader a taxing glance and hesitated. ...You and your pack of mongrels in partnership with the other reptile are going to conduct me and my people! he finished, casting somewhat timid glances at the ruby eyes glowing in the twilight.

Forgive me, Your Highness, when Gaenor spoke up, there was a decidedly more venomous contempt in his voice. But we were also not impressed that our prince ran to the rescue of the lady of his heart. That's very chivalrous of him... He smiled sarcastically. ...And foolish and insane at the same time, he finished. But as you yourself mentioned...

Enough! chuckled Alt'ar, seeing the Earden ruler's face go from purple to blue with anger. If we continue to argue among ourselves, we will not come to any concrete conclusions. Drasan is not here. I don't think Queen Antui will be able to get his crazy plan out of his head, so we can safely rule him out of the game. He took a deep breath and added, Those who have a hard time with this can safely consider him a corpse, here he looked at Velwel. Velwel hastily lowered his gaze and did something he hadn't done in a long time: he took a flask from his bosom and took a big gulp from it.

The few surviving members of the Assassin's Guild also lowered their eyes. It seemed as if they were paying tribute to a fallen comrade in arms.

Gaenor said nothing, which reassured Alt'ar that at least he agreed with his decision.

CHAPTER 2

He found him exactly where he expected. Gaenor stood on a hill overlooking the field where the memorable battle had taken place. The dragon did not betray, even with a movement of his folded wings on his back, that he had sensed his presence, and he certainly knew who was approaching. Alt'ar wordlessly stood at his side. They were both silent for a long moment.

Do you think I did the right thing? the assassin asked quietly, still unsure if Gaenor had sided with him.

Sometimes you have to choose the lesser of two evils, the black dragon stated with stoic calm, still staring at the orange ball of sunlight slowly disappearing behind the horizon. There was something in his posture that surprised Alt'ar - he seemed concerned. Suddenly he turned his large horned head and looked the assassin in the eye. Drasan is a fool, he said in only a seemingly angry voice. ...noble, he added after a brief moment of thought. ...but a fool nonetheless.

The Alt'ar stared into the yellow eyes for a long time before making a reply.

You pity him... he stated finally.

The dragon snorted, a puff of smoke escaping from his nostrils.

No, he replied quickly, sighing and bowing his head. Actually, yes, but that won't change anything anymore. There's no room for sentiment in war. He looked again at the battlefield, where mounds still rose, marking the site of mass graves where the fallen had been left for lack of time to be properly buried. Nevertheless, I admire his courage, he turned to Alt'ara. I told him what awaited him, and he chose to face it to save the girl.

The sight of the rider's silhouette standing out clearly against the crimson and purple tinted sky drew the attention of them both. It was Alt'ar's keen eyesight, perfected over the years, that made him recognize who was coming towards them - the person riding the robust black stallion was not Drasan, but Mara. He did not seem surprised by this fact, he expected that since the half-dragon did not listen to him or Velwel, she would not do anything either. Still, the fact that she was riding Ernil was quite a disturbing fact.

The queen stopped the coach at the foot of the hill, and from her urgent look both she and Gaenor understood that she wanted to speak with them in private. The dragon was the first to descend, or rather jump down the hill, the assassin running right behind him. Mara dismounted and led the horse to the nearest tree. Twisting the bridle around a branch, she still did not say a word, but her movements betrayed her nervousness. When she had finished, she gestured for them to come closer. 

Drasan has gone mad, she mouthed in one breath.

That's not news, snorted the Gidia leader.

Mara shook her head.

"If you'd seen him, you'd know what