Return of the Dragon of Chaos: The Spinners of Time, #2

By AMY WOLF

Do you devour the dark tales woven by Brandon Sanderson, Robert Jordan, and Anne McCaffrey?

Do you yearn to explore  a mysterious world that harkens back to dragon myths first told in ancient Turkey?

Are you eager to enter a world beyond the traditional fantasy settings?

Then welcome to the magical world of Gehān.

If you've already read the first book, then here is a refresher:

Abarōz has never seen the sun. She's lived her whole life in Dardan, an underground city where no one ventures outside under penalty of death.

But when its corrupt leader goes after her father, she has no choice but to venture aboveground where she finds a world she never could have imagined: one filled with dragons, monsters, and a brutal conflict between light and chaos.

Can Abarōz move past her doubts and become the dragonrider she was destined to be? Will the Dragon of Chaos defeat the forces of Light and everything she's ever loved?

Find out in the first book of The Spinners of Time series.

And now we're back with the thrilling follow-up to the epic first journey . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lone Wolf Press Ltd.
• Release date: Mar 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215872048

AMY WOLF

Amy Wolf has just released the first book of in her Greek fantasy MYTHOS world. She is an Amazon Kindle Scout winner for her novel THE MISSES BRONTES' ESTABLISHMENT. Her fantasy series, THE CAVERNIS TRILOGY, is out from Red Empress Press. Amy has published 38 short stories in the SF/Fantasy press, including REALMS OF FANTASY (2) and INTERZONE (U.K.). She is a graduate of the Clarion West Writer's program and has an honors English degree from The University of London. She started her career working for the major Hollywood studios, including 20th Century Fox and Warner Bros., and was a Script Reader for MGM & Joe Roth. One of three natives out of 10 million, Amy was forced from L.A. and now lives in Honolulu. She has one adult daughter currently terrorizing L.A., and a small, barky dog.

Book preview

The Bērūn

There was so much to do that Abarōz felt exhausted even though she was standing still.

As she and Shāhpuhr gazed down from a rock ridge, they could hardly believe the devastation littered before them. The gate of Dardan, formerly a giant boulder, lay scattered in shards on the sand, each faintly illuminated under the light of Māh. Bodies were strewn everywhere, and not just those of humans. There were Yaryonds, half horses resting on twisted legs, and wolf-headed dragons who looked like snakes with wings. Even Erbörü were motionless, along with Marans: those pale white snakes whose bodies formed coiled mounds.

I–I don’t know where to start, Abarōz told Shāhpuhr as she turned in a daze. It was she, after all, who had urged on this last battle: she who begged the Axwaš to become riders of dragons; who had climbed the Tree of Life to bring the Perils to them. But as she surveyed the terrible wreckage of war, she really had no idea what to do next. Should she and Shāhpuhr attempt to rebuild Dardan, this time in the Bērūn where it could shine under Mihr? Or should they first apply themselves to burying the dead?

No, she thought, shaking her head. They must now address the wounded whose piteous groans filled the air.

Come, she told Shāhpuhr, we are obligated to help them.

Though he nodded, he seemed hesitant.

But how?

Well, Abarōz said, "we cannot forget that I am Şahmeran now. And as far as my powers . . . I am really not sure."

Shāhpuhr raised a brow.

Perhaps we should ask my mother? She was close to the old Şahmeran.

Abarōz nodded dumbly; against the rays of a rising Mihr, she searched for a glint of green. Finally, one caught her eye not far from Dardan’s ruined entrance.

She and Shāhpuhr clambered down in their Peril-forged gold armor. Once they reached Bükrek, she turned to them with a smile.

And how do both of you fare? she asked. No lasting wounds, I hope.

No, Mother, answered Shāhpuhr, but we have come to inquire about the Şahmeran’s powers.

The green dragon bent her neck toward them.

Abarōz, she said, you well know your hold over nature. But there is another gift, one not widely known.

Abarōz gulped.

If it were a gift, it couldn’t be bad, could it?

Both you and your Marans, Bükrek continued, possess the power to heal.

Abarōz stood there wide-eyed.

Really? she breathed.

She didn’t feel like a healer.

Indeed. You must speak to your new subjects and ask for their help.

But how–how do I do that?

Call them to you, said Bükrek. For surely you know their tongue.

Of course, Abarōz thought, turning to slog through sand to find moving white coils. She nearly stumbled over them before shakily raising her hand.

Marans, Abarōz said, her words a series of hisses. As your new queen, I beg you to honor the last by using your skill to heal.

The snakes hissed as one, slithering over the sand toward those who cried out in pain. Abarōz watched as they stuck out their tongues, lathing broken flesh.

She broke out of her daze, running toward a frantic mother who hugged her daughter to her, the girl’s nasty slash on her arm a testament to claw or fang.

Please, please help her! the mother cried.

Abarōz fell to her knees as she leaned over the girl. Saying nothing, she instinctively reached out both hands to place them over the wound. Of the three of them, no one was more surprised than she as the skin knit neatly, stemming the dark flow of blood.

Thank Tengri! said the mother, raising her palms to the sky. Surely you must be his daughter.

Oh no, said Abarōz, feeling her cheeks flame. But I am the new Şahmeran, and desire, like the last queen, to use my powers for good.

Ülgen bless you! the woman sobbed as Abarōz moved on, repeating her laying of hands on the injured who’d fought for their side and even on those who didn’t. As Mihr rose higher in a clear, cloudless sky; she healed all whom she could aided by her Marans.

Feeling weak from the exercise of her powers, Abarōz sought out Shāhpuhr, who was setting the dead in a pile. Here, in the desert, there could be no underground burial: only a burning by fire.

Abarōz watched as Shāhpuhr took out his two stones, smashing them together until a spark ignited. The corpses’ clothing soon burst into leaping flames as he and Abarōz moved away from the heat.

I told you, he said, seizing her hand to find some semblance of shade.

What? She could barely remember what happened a minute ago.

You knew what to do! he cried. Your powers are natural to you.

Abarōz grinned.

Though they are unnatural.

She led him toward one of Dardan’s now-exposed aqueducts. At least here, the air was somewhat cooler. In the spirit of staunching her sweat, Abarōz tore off her armor. Once Shāhpuhr followed suit, she stared at the low water longingly.

Maybe— she started.

It is shallow, he answered, and the thick walls ensure we’ll be trapped.

Sensible, rumbled a voice, and, as Abarōz started, she relaxed at the sight of Bükrek. Let no one claim we ebren lack logic.

Especially you, Abarōz mumbled.

Bükrek let out a clear laugh.

Well, as the Dragon of Light, I have a standard to uphold.

Abarōz grinned. After the tension of battle, it felt nice just to smile. Then, her concerns crashed down like heavy Dardan stones.

Bükrek, she asked, now that the wounded are healed, I don’t know what I should do.

The green dragon nodded her massive head.

"What do you feel is most pressing?" she asked.

Well ... Abarōz thought. We need to refill the aqueducts. Without this, the city will die, and those who died for her will have done so for no purpose.

Shāhpuhr nodded his approval.

Though you’re no ebren, he told her, you are undoubtedly wise.

Abarōz lowered her head, trying to hide her blush.

Can you restore the water from here? he asked.

I don’t think so, answered Abarōz. I feel I must go to the source.

Do you know where it lies?

Yes. As a girl, I heard tales of a great river to the northwest. But . . . if I understand correctly, it is close to Sangal’s lair.

As she shuddered, Bükrek and her son looked grave. Though they knew the red dragon was gone, driven by Bükrek into his lake of fire, there was still a good chance his horde was back in their cave—licking their wounds, no doubt.

Bükrek sighed.

I have done all I can, she said. I cannot indulge in battle, unless it is against Sangal.

Abarōz nodded. As the Dragon of Light, sent by Tengri himself, Bükrek had to obey the strict laws of the Sky God.

Do not fret, Mother, Shāhpuhr cried, for Abarōz and I have escaped far greater dangers. He bent to give Abarōz a wink. Let’s go find our dragons!

And, with a last concerned look from Bükrek, he seized her hand and led her over the sand.

Abarōz shielded her eyes against Mihr’s punishing rays. She thought she saw patches of color which must be ebrens who’d gone through the battle unscathed. Then, her wavering vision caught two plain splotches, one black and one white.

Is that them? she asked, pointing.

Good eye! said Shāhpuhr, clapping her on the back. He led the way past a line of Southern ebrens, stopping before their own. A master of the Dragon tongue, he let out a series of roars and growls followed by flamelike hissing.

Abarōz stood there, blinking. What was going on here? For the first time ever, she understood what he’d said! Abarōz couldn’t help it: Her lips formed a wide smile. So, she could now speak Dragon! Add that to Maran!

As his ebren Catanes responded, Shāhpuhr turned to her.

He says—

I know! Abarōz cried, just a quarter-day to the North!

Now Shāhpuhr grinned.

Guess being Şahmeran has its advantages.

So far, answered Abarōz, I cannot complain. Her good mood ended as she frowned. Don’t you think we should retrieve our armor?

He slapped his forehead, making a zigzag path to where they’d left their gold plate. Within moments, they helped each other with buckles before hefting their weapons.

To Az! Abarōz cried, running in her lightweight armor to reach her ebren and give him a hearty pat.

How have you been? she growled in Dragon.

Still alive, he roared. Happy to see you are as well.

You might not be quite so glad when I tell you about our mission.

The ebren barely shrugged as she related the details.

Climb aboard, he hissed, and Abarōz did so, so glad to be on dragonback and not soaring over a war that she felt her own her spirits soar.

"Ready?’ Shāhpuhr called, leaping on Catanes’ back.

On her nod, white smoke spiraled from Az’s nostrils as the two ebrens took off. It seemed as if they headed straight for Mihr as they set a northwest course. After some moments of feeling her favorite sensation—cool breeze caressing her face—Abarōz broke the silence.

Shāhpuhr! she called, leaning over to scan the desert. Do you think some of Sangal’s horde lie in wait by the river?

No! he shouted, clutching Catanes’ spine for balance. Without their Master, I imagine they’re in their lair, shaking at every sound.

Abarōz laughed. She only hoped it were true. The two dragons flapped easily until they glided over a patch of something strange.

What is that? Abarōz asked, her eyes narrowed to scan the ground. It’s not sand and it certainly isn’t water.

Shāhpuhr slowed Catanes down.

Right, he said.

As their mounts swooped lower, he and Abarōz froze in their seats.

Below was a wide, muddy swatch—like an open scar on the land—revealing, as they descended, a tragic sight: What had once been a river was now no more than a dump, one of jagged stacked logs; stagnant, black water; and the blasted limbs of dead trees.

Abarōz felt a wetness form behind her eyes. As if this wasteland weren’t bad enough—the source of Dardan’s water made fallow by Sangal—the sight of a form at its edge made her sense of helplessness complete.

What is it? Abarōz wondered, unsheathing her sword and gripping her gold spear tightly. She’d thought she’d seen it all, but what lurked below was surely unknown in Gehān. Taking a deep breath, she guided her dragon down alongside Shāhpuhr’s.

Yelbegen

W hat–what is it?

Abarōz found the courage to speak as they leveled off at safe distance from the being below.

Shāhpuhr looked down, unblinking.

I think I know, he said. My mother once told me about him. He is called Yelbegen.

But why is he here? Abarōz tried to stem the quiver in her voice. Is he some creature of Sangal’s?

Oh no, answered Shāhpuhr. He is the son of the golden witch who helps to rule the underworld.

What a ghastly looking beast!

That may be so, Shāhpuhr said evenly, but he is a beast with a mind.

Abarōz felt a rush of shame.

If that’s the case, she said, we might be able to talk to him.

With a nod, Shāhpuhr landed Catanes. The dragon’s claws indented smooth mud as he braked to a halt. Az, never one to be left behind, soon joined her fellow ebren.

Even at this distance, neither rider dared dismount as Yelbegen turned his seven heads, each poised on a long, narrow neck. Abarōz now saw that his scales were a dull sick green.

HELLO! she called in Dragon, accompanying her words with a big, fake smile.

The eyes in three of those heads regarded her with contempt while the others looked away.

"You dare to address me?" Yelbegen snarled. I, the king of all dragons? Several heads snaked toward Abarōz on their long, narrow necks.

I–I beg your pardon, she stammered, giving a sort of bow. My friend here— she pointed at Shāhpuhr, —is well acquainted with you, but I confess myself ignorant.

Just like a Dardan! two heads hissed Thinking they can conquer Sangal. What insolent, arrogant creatures!

Hey . . . Abarōz started, but Shāhpuhr stepped in.

Has it reached your ears, O King, that there has been a mighty battle, and Sangal is in exile?

It has not! growled Yelbegen. And how is it I know you are not trying to deceive me?

The son of Bükrek speaks the truth, Abarōz told him. His mother has ushered Chaos into his lake of fire.

Yelbegen gave a snort from at least four of his heads.

Even if you do not lie, I will never abandon this place. Though Sangal wrought this mischief, it is my task to ensure this river stays barren.

May–may I ask why? Abarōz said with what she hoped was the proper deference.

Because, ignorant Dardan, I haunt desolate, ruined places; and if I can’t drain a river myself, I will guard its corpse instead!

Abarōz closed her eyes and decided on a new tactic.

My friend here claims you have great power of mind.

Is that not a given? Yelbegen asked, thrusting up his necks.

Of course, well, you see . . . Dardan depends on this river for life itself. If it no longer flows, possible thousands will die.

What is that to me? roared Yelbegen. I’ll see their souls in the underworld.

Oh. Yes. Abarōz thought again. Is there anything we can give you? Dardan still possesses its gold.

HA! Yelbegen exhaled, as clouds of black smoke wafted from fourteen nostrils. Foolish girl, you don’t know the extent of my wealth! For I have castles spread over the whole of Gehān!

Abarōz slumped.

How could they persuade him? He already had enough riches, and seven heads to boot!

The Dragon King approached them, his stumped claws heavy on mud. As a few of his tongues emerged, Abarōz saw they were forked.

"There is something, each head purred in tandem. Something you can give me."

And what would that be?

Abarōz tensed, dreading his request.

Your dragons, Yelbegen continued, extending a neck to sniff them. I’ll settle for only one.

What . . . Abarōz asked, . . . what is it that you want them for?

Why, to eat, of course.

Abarōz felt the sting of bile rising in her throat.

But you yourself are a dragon!

Of sorts, Yelbegen yawned, but that doesn’t mean they’re not tasty.

Yuck! You eat your own kind? You make the Erbörü look civilized!

Shāhpuhr ended Abarōz’s tirade with a cautious hand on her shoulder.

Great Yelbegen, he asked, is there anything else we can offer? My mother has great influence, and I know she would reward you.

Bah! spat the Dragon King. Compared to me, the Dragon of Light is nothing!

Oh no, Abarōz panicked, this Yelbegen is deluded. No doubt he thinks himself equal to Tengri! Az and Catanes shared a look of concern. Perhaps, Abarōz thought, they envision themselves on a spit!

The two ebrens stepped back, allowing their riders to whisper.

Now what? Abarōz asked. By the gods, I’d rather die than give him Az for dinner!

I feel the same, said Shāhpuhr, about Catanes.

Both dragons untensed.

Still, Abarōz fretted, our mission has not changed. If we don’t dispel the beast, we cannot restore the river. And that means death to our zand.

Shāhpuhr leaned over to her.

Then, he said, we must take Yelbegen by force. Drive him back to the underworld.

But how? We are only two, and he is effectively seven!

We must make the attempt, said Shāhpuhr, unsheathing his own gold sword. We are hardened by battle and have fought our share of beasts.

Not with—

It hardly matters. We have faced greater odds.

Abarōz scoured her mind to remember exactly when. Still, Shāhpuhr was right: They had spearheaded a war and emerged the winners.

Very well, Abarōz sighed. Let us try to survive.

Shāhpuhr nodded, guiding Catanes up as Abarōz did the same with Az.

Tengri help us, she muttered as she received an eyeful of the top of Yelbegen’s heads. The beast didn’t seem fazed as he extended his necks, his many mouths staining the sky with flame.

I was afraid of that, said Abarōz, clinging to Az’s spine as he returned fire, his own flowing as wide as all Yelbegen’s. Joined by Catanes, it almost seemed the Dardans could win the day!

But the crafty beast below was clearly no stranger to battle. Though he bore no wings, he extended three necks far enough to catch Az’s back claw. As her dragon roared, Abarōz could feel both of them being drawn toward their foe where they were ensnared by four more waiting necks!

Abarōz felt rough scales press against her windpipe, then circling, like tendrils, around her neck. Az suffered the same treatment: He thrashed in the grasp of coils which slithered over his body, then thumped him to the mud!

Sh—Shāh—, Abarōz called but what emerged was a strangled whisper. After all the beasts she’d fought—Sangal’s horde, Erbörü, Yaryonds—was she really going to die at the claws of a cannibal?

Abarōz, your spear! Shāhpuhr yelled, wheeling Catanes so he came straight at the raging monster. If you can, on three!

Abarōz felt herself slipping into darkness, but before she succumbed, she reached for her gold weapon.

One! Shāhpuhr cried, steering Catanes closer. Two! And now, three!

With all his strength, he hurled his sword so it whistled through the dry air. Abarōz staved off eternal sleep enough to throw her spear, catching an open mouth while Shāhpuhr’s gleaming blade wholly vanished into another!

Abarōz felt Yelbegen’s grip loosen as Az thrashed to break free. The beast ceased belching fire, emitting loud groans instead. But this was not the end. She saw him stop moving as the cracked mud beneath him gave way. Huge fissures encircled him like the spokes of a wheel until Yelbegen vanished from sight, swallowed up by the ground itself!

Thank Tengri, breathed Shāhpuhr, landing Catanes beside her. He must have decided to go back home.