Blood Thieves: Shackles of Deception, #1

By Jeremy A. Brown

When brothers Sagius and Tand started their Trial they had their lives planned out.  Survive.  Become hunters, just like their father.  Sagius would marry Lalis and Tand would...be there. But when their Trial wakes a dragon and kills a god...you'd be wrong to think that was anything more than the beginning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeremy A. Brown
• Release date: Nov 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215113738

Jeremy A. Brown

An epic daerd (dad-nerd) Jeremy A. Brown has an insane love for fiction in all formats, growing up on Saturday morning cartoons and Western novels. He broke into science fiction and fantasy once the westerns ran out and is still inhaling all the good (according to him) fiction he can find on screen and in print. Reader turned writer, the fun never stops. He lives in Manitoba, Canada with his wife and two daughters, Ivy and Nora.

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Acknowledgments

To my wife, Kelsey . My constant support and inspiration to be more.

Prologue

Gomant pushed back despair and stood strong.  He was surrounded by the twenty-one elf magi who were to aid him in casting the Dragon’s Bane spell. They all looked to him, ready for a display of godlike powers, not knowing that this was just the desperate, and perhaps final, act of an old man.

Most believed Gomant was a god. He’d lived for thousands of years already. He was the Father of the elves.  He’d forged the Maiale Desert as a barrier against Thanatos, the Lord of Death. He had done many things no one else could do.

There had originally been seven like him. Kedem is what they had been called.  All had different kinds of power and they had done truly great things, but they were not gods.  Four more had been born from the original seven before the Kedem had cast a spell to prevent themselves from having any more children.  They were too powerful, and just as prone to evil as the humans they used to be.

Immortality should never have become a birthright.

Yet even with their great power, they could be destroyed.  They had been destroyed.  Of the original seven, he was the only one still whole and free. Yet for all of his power, he had failed against the dragons.

Humans, elves...everything in between and beyond had joined forces and it had not been enough. They had already lost, but the Armies of the Land refused to accept their defeat.

The dragons had won the war, but Gomant had one last trick. The Dragon’s Bane spell.

The Landbound were at the brink of destruction and about to be pushed over if the Dragon’s Bane didn’t work.  He had planned in complete secrecy, even from his own. The dragons didn’t know what was happening. 

The elves began to chant.  It served to unite them and bring their power together as it was released.

Gomant’s voice rang out and covered the meadow in a dome of force.  He trapped the magic of the elves and the power began to build.

Next, Gomant started two unique spells simultaneously.  He had carefully crafted the parts to be sure they would work.  He chanted for the one and moved for the other.  His movements might have looked like a dance, but it was a spell, not a dance.  Whatever grace it had was accidental.  Together the spells would make the Dragon’s Bane.  It would be the third of the Great Spells he had crafted...if it worked. 

As he began to move the Kedem dismissed all distractions and focused on the spells.  He had attached mental triggers to each movement.  His every breath and vibration in his voice was a part.  He had practiced, breaking the spell into pieces and mastering each until he was confident in his skill.  Now he brought it all together.

He had a small amount of time left before the power he held in the dome would be too great for him to manage.  Gomant sang faster, moved faster. 

He sang a melody that would have made the rocks and trees weep if they had possessed the ears to hear.  The sadness had been unintended but it was appropriate and unavoidable.

Only a few minutes passed before it was done.  He focused inward as his song and dance finished.  The eyes of the elves flashed in understanding.  In that instant and with a single motion of his closed fist he pulled and the dome collapsed towards him. With a dull boom they all felt in their bones, it carried all the power the elves had unleashed.  The magi dove into shallow depressions in the ground they had prepared beforehand.  It was dangerous to be in the path of so much power.

Graltheramin did not hide.  His face was set in greedy excitement and evil intent as he spread his arms wide.  The dome passed him and the elf’s horror and pain showed an instant before he exploded into a red mist, showering those around him with his blood.  Gomant didn’t know what Graltheramin had planned to do with such power, but no elf could hope to contain that much within them.  The other elves convulsed as if hit by lightning.  They had absorbed too much even lying on the ground.  Quick harmless spells cast into the air shed the extra energy. 

The dome almost blinded him as it approached and Gomant readied himself without fear. He threw his arms wide like Graltheramin had, but with confidence. He knew what would happen.

The magical energy hit his body and the world was void in the rush of power. 

So much power always sent his mind into a place of nothing.  There was no sound, no touch, no taste, no sight, no smell.  Nothing.  Not even darkness.  No light shone that might reveal it. There was simply nothing.  Time had no meaning, but he waited for the power to find him in the void. The wait was one eternal moment and then he was found. 

Gomant was back in the clearing. It was exactly as he had left it.  No time had passed.  He did not fully understand the void, but thought it a gift of his blood.  Or a curse. One second of silent thought passed and the spells activated. 

Every muscle in his body pulled tight until he was curled into a ball as they sought an exit.  In an excruciating moment they found it and his arms and legs were flung wide.  His joints popped from the violence of the spell’s release and suspended him in midair.  Moments later he groaned in relief as his body was freed and he dropped to the ground in a crouch. 

It was time to see what he had wrought.

Massive connecting lines of power were all he could see as the spells raced beyond his sight to do their work.  His eyes dimmed and he sent his awareness along the power.  It seemed like the spell had worked as he intended. The true sadness would soon begin.  It was a victory to be sure, but possibly his greatest sin as well.  He was stripping a race of its pride.  There would be no more dragons after this day, just something...less.

He gasped as the spells struck the first dragon, one of the many who were innocent of the war.  She flew high in the sky, enjoying her flight when the spells hit.  The scream of the dragon was terrible and it cut Gomant as surely as a knife.

Her wings ripped free in a spray of blood and cartilage.  They dissolved into a mist that rushed back to him.  Dragon fire burnt a hole straight out of her body. It too, rushed back along his power.  What was now no more than a giant lizard plummeted down through the clouds to her death. If she had survived she would have had neither fire in her breath nor wings.  He mourned her, just as he would mourn the rest. 

With great effort, he wrenched his attention away from her death...her murder. The Dragon’s Bane reached the last Army of the Land where they stood against the Dragons on a massive plain outside Kamundur.  They had been caught on the march and were being slaughtered.

The army was surrounded, fire rushing in from all sides.  Elf magic withstood the fire. The mages also created a dome which stopped the dragon’s themselves from simply crushing the army with their great size, but they were being overwhelmed.  Gomant could see fire leaking through their defenses in several places. They couldn’t last much longer.

In the war, magic had quickly been developed to counter the dragon’s fire and their flight.  Elf mages had tremendous powers of destruction, but they quickly grew into the role of defense.  They were forced to defend or die and it took nearly all of their power to do so.  One dragon in flight could destroy any army if it had no mages.  The magic was needed, but it only brought the dragons to fight on the ground.  It was better, but still not good.

One massive red dragon had broken through their lines, both magical and physical, and killed at will from within them.  The land-bound near the dragon swarmed it in desperation while the outer line held fast.  They knew they couldn’t all turn to face the dragon behind their lines.  It would only mean a quicker death.  They faced forward and fought on simply because faltering would only hasten the end.  The dragon swung a tail bigger than most trees and killed an entire fist of human soldiers in an instant, their bodies turned into deadly missiles for their allies by the force of the attack. 

Thousands of soldiers of all races and creatures lay dead while less than two dozen dragons lay still out on the plain.  There were possibly five hundred dragons surrounding the Army of the Land along with perhaps ten times their number of Gar’din, the foot soldiers created by the black dragon Meremoth.  It was more than half of all remaining dragons.  They had suffered losses during this war too but they knew this was the end and now they toyed with this army. Surrounded and on the plain it did not stand a chance.

Gomant felt sadness for the innocent dragons that would suffer from the Dragon’s Bane for sins they had never committed...but later. He was determined to mourn later.  In this instant he would experience in full the fierce joy of crushing his enemies.

The spell struck. 

Dragons fell screaming out of the sky.  Drying his tears, Gomant laughed as they died, mountainous bodies striking the earth so hard that everything for miles around shook from the impacts.  The army’s shock lasted only seconds.  They began to cheer even as they struggled to stay standing.  The elves shield had held and the dragons that hit it died in a flash of magical energy and then slid along its edge to land in a ring on the ground around the army.

Once the ground stopped shaking from the impact of the dragons falling the last Army of the Land began to do what a decade of war had taught them to do. 

Kill dragons. 

Creatures of all sorts raced for the writhing bodies of wounded dragons to strike killing blows.  A dragon’s scales were nearly unbreakable and overlapped so that the creatures were completely covered.  From the front only the eyes and open mouth were vulnerable but from behind a point could be stabbed against the grain of the scales.  It could slip underneath and plunge into skin as soft as any other creature’s.  The landbound skillfully stabbed into the skin beneath the scales and plunged their weapons into unguarded eyes as they shouted their victory.  Soldiers still died, but now the dragons, bereft of wing and flame and unable to focus through their agony, died as well. 

The big red that had penetrated their lines lay still.  It had instantly been swarmed by hundreds of soldiers.  Writhing from the pain of the Dragon’s Bane, it had been unable to defend itself.  Many had been crushed by its bulk, but the soldiers had swarmed forward and it had died fast. 

The vengeance of the elves was terrible.  Even though they stood on a small hill, Gomant could hardly see them for the amount of magical destruction flowing from where they stood. Without the need to defend the army from dragons in the sky their fury was unleashed and they too had learned how to kill dragons.  Gomant saw in full the hatred and fear they held for the dragons. 

The leader of them all, Khumalgishag, the great Dragon Lord and firstborn of Mazir, the Father of the Dragons, stood on a hill at the edge of the plain. Before, he had watched the destruction of the Army of the Land.  Now, he watched the destruction of his own forces.  His form dwarfed that of all the other dragons. He was larger than even his father.  He was silent in the midst of his pain and loss.  The only signs that he had suffered the Dragon’s Bane like the rest were tiny ripples in his scales as the muscles around his wounds twitched. 

The slaughter of the dragon army was remarkably swift.  It drew to a close while Gomant still watched. As the last dragon died Khumalgishag roared.  His maw opened, and though no fire emerged, the battlefield was silent after his roar died away.  All knew that even now, without an army of dragons, or fire, or wings, their victory was not assured against this dragon.  The foot soldiers had none of the special weapons that were big enough to do serious injury to the Lord of Dragons. The elves had held nothing back and were close to collapse. 

At great cost the Army of the Land might destroy the Lord of Dragons, but it was far from ideal. They were not prepared.  Everyone waited in silence.  Khumalgishag lowered his mighty head as the echoes of his roar faded.  He stood for a time looking at the forces arrayed against him. It was an agonizing moment.  Then he turned and simply walked away, his steps shaking the earth. No matter how mighty, he could not win a war alone. The Army of the Land erupted in joy. 

**Awaken**

The war was over. 

The battlefield faded from his mind’s eye.  The inferno and bloody mist from that victory, the wings and fire of a thousand dragons, rushed towards him.  He tried to ready himself as he had for the power he had received from the elves.

But the void didn’t come. 

Pain annihilated his every sense.  His scream was raw and horrible as the flame and bloody mist pounded into him.  He couldn’t feel beyond the pain but when his voice began to sound vaguely draconic he felt the first hints of fear.  Spasms racked his body and he lost the strength to scream, instead sobbing helplessly, thrashing on the ground.  His body was changing.  His thrashing ripped and tore at the ground, limbs gaining strength and hardness.  What before would have flattened grass now pounded deep holes into the earth. 

He lost control. 

In time the pain receded and he could feel the changes in his body.  He wept not for pain now, but in horror at what he had become. 

He had wings. 

Tears of flame had leaked from his eyes. They had etched burning trails down his face before his skin had hardened enough to resist the heat.  He could feel the flame inside of him, the Breath of the Dragons, the Wings of the Dragons...his now. 

His senses whipped back down his power as the spell began to strike the dragons farther away who had nothing to do with the war.  He cried in frustration and grief as the spell hit his old friend Mazir where he and his love lived beyond the reach of civilization.  The Father of all dragons had been with him since near the beginning. It was no comfort that Mazir understood the need and even welcomed the cost. Mazir could have prevented the entire war, but for one weakness.  Even to prevent such a war as had enveloped the world, he could not kill his own son, Khumalgishag. Thus Mazir welcomed the pain of the Dragon’s Bane, for in part, it represented the cost of his own failures.

The wings and fire of individual dragons pounded into Gomant, but he hardly felt the pain compared to his grief and that rushing tide from the battlefield.  His awareness flew along his power and looked back on the last Army of the Land. He saw his name on their lips. They shouted his victory to the skies.  Many of the elves would be able to sense his power stretching above and beyond them and must have spoken of it.  The battlefield was covered with the mounds of dead dragons, far more dead from falling out of the sky than from the weapons of their enemies, but all dead nonetheless. 

He saw the white wings of his love Lunise.  Her wings made her unique among all the elves. It also made her easy to spot.  She had stayed low to the ground in this fight.  He almost tried to call to her, but decided against it.  The spell was still in effect and he didn’t know what that would do if he touched her mind.  Gomant looked to the end of the spell.  Dragon’s Bane was beyond the desert, beyond the ocean to lands he hadn’t known existed. 

The power of the spell reached the last dragon. He could feel the shape of the world in the way the spell had spread and he laughed. Far too many of the elves still believed the world to be flat. 

The spell continued to spread, even after it had reached the last dragon, and he perceived its path in rising fear.  His sense of it turned to horror and he rushed back to his body.  He closed his eyes, eyes that burned so much now, and whispered to no one in particular, ‘I’m sorry.’

The lines of power rushed back to him and the first one hit in a blinding crackle of power before he had finished realizing the complete horror of his mistake.  It flung him across the clearing to collide against a tree.  The force of it should have broken him, but with the changes in his body the section of tree he hit erupted in splinters, the top thirty feet spinning from the impact as it began to fall.  A second line connected and drove him back the other way, straight down on top of an elf lord, he didn’t see who, driving them both several feet into the ground.  The sound and feel of it was branded in Gomant’s mind.

The rest of the elves bolted, leaving behind their dead comrades.  Two ran across lines of power and exploded into red mist as Graltheramin had.  All, including Gomant, gaped for an instant of awe-struck horror before the elves fled as fast as they could, now with a mind for where the power was.

There was less of a gap now between the lines of power slamming into Gomant.  Each one changed him more and solidified the changes already in place, making them stronger, greater...and permanent.  What had before been a peaceful clearing was a mess of shattered wood and churned earth by the time the spell finished. 

**Awaken**

The spell hadn’t worked the way he had planned.  He had wanted to tie it to the earth and make it as unbreakable as the land itself...but it was tied to him. 

If he died, the spell would be broken and dragons would rule the sky once more in full possession of their power.  If the dragons ever discovered it...he would be the target of them and every assassin they could hire.  He would need to make sure they never knew what had happened.  Already they would hunt him because of what he had done, but if they discovered it could be undone...Gomant shuddered.

Dragons would not die from the spell alone, they were not meant to, but they would be hunted for a long time, possibly to extinction. He didn’t believe there were more than a dozen beings that could kill Khumalgishag. An army could, but an army like the one Khumalgishag had just walked away from would not rise again now the threat was past.  Gomant knew of no way to kill Mazir, and took comfort in that knowledge. But the dragons that survived his spell and the inevitable dragon hunt that followed...they would know it was Gomant who had cast the Dragon’s Bane.  They would come for him regardless. 

What about Lunise? His love? Gomant’s mind flashed through a scenario of a dragon torturing her to learn his location and inside he crumbled.  If what he had become was known, there was no way he could prevent them from guessing the truth. None of the elves who took part in the spell could speak of it. He’d bind them with an oath.

The Elf Lords eventually mustered the courage to approach the devastated clearing. They found Gomant weeping with tear trails burnt into his face.  His skin was like leather, cold and hard to the touch, perhaps as hard as dragon scales.  Wings sprouted unnaturally from his back.  Each was twice as long as his body, massive and ugly. Flames moved and shone through his skin, making shadows that shifted across his torso. 

His weeping slowed and he looked