Companions of Dragons: Awakenings, #2

By C. Borden

Following the revelations in Echoes of Dragons, the companions, gathered in Elmnas, prepare for the White Lord's renewed fury.

The dragons' return divides the group as they struggle to adjust to an astonishing truth: a dragon caused the Cataclysm, the disappearance of the dragons, and the upheaval of magic.

Reeling, the companions react in light of the coming war. Orinus and Estryl must breach the wall of storms. What lies beyond could help them master their unique abilities. In Elmnas, Grazina must reconcile helping her friends with staying behind to fulfill her duties as the royal heir. Aldrina musters the courage to confront her birthright. It may mean leaving behind her chosen life. Meanwhile, far to the south, Libitina and her young companion leave Mygras. A deep-rooted call, which they cannot ignore, beckons them northeast.

Applying their knowledge, the companions rush to defend against the White Lord and his forces. Scattered across the world, the allies fear they'll be too late to protect that which they hold dear: Mythnium itself.

Readers who enjoy the companionship in The Icewind Dale trilogy, or the world building in The Lord of the Rings, will love Companions of Dragons.

Immerse yourself in the fantasy realm of Mythnium today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. Borden
• Release date: Apr 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223560944

C. Borden

C. Borden is an avid reader and most enjoys the richness of fantasy and science fiction, which inspires her to write stories from her own imagination. Drawing inspiration from the people and places that have touched her life, her works include lifelike characters, places readers wish they could visit to fully engage her readers. Though her first published works are fantasy short stories and a fantasy novel, she is also a Christian and fiction author.  C. Borden is a wife, mother, and USAF Veteran. Beyond writing, she enjoys reading, traveling, gardening, and nature photography. When she’s not writing, she’s most likely enjoying the outdoors with friends and family, helping another author get their ideas on paper, or curled up with a good book from one of her favorite authors.

Book preview

Prologue

The White Lord stood in the large ring that had housed Libitina and the dragon egg. Fuming at the red dragon’s audacity to steal the egg and disappear, he searched the magical currents trying to find her. It was a waste of time. After a week of trying, it was clear that now she would be too far away for him to track. Past the point of raging, he stared at the wanton destruction he had wrought around his citadel every time he got no word from his spy network.

What had motivated her to leave so abruptly? The unanswered question gave rise to his growing doubts and suspicions and added to his fury. A hot fury that clouded his mind. He knew it yet seemed unable to get the rage under control. All the plans he had been working toward for centuries were coming unraveled.

He made a mental note to seek Naga’s help during their next communion, though he worried about that as well. The last time he sought communion with his god, Naga had not responded. Losing Libitina and the egg, and the quietness of his god, made him uncertain. Thus, the ugly cycle of doubt-filled rage continued.

As he turned to leave the ring, he glanced out the wide doors and saw several messengers scrambling up the rise from the citadel and the docks beyond to meet him.

Irgus, a manipulative sailor who hopped from ship to ship as a regular course of his work, arrived in front of the White Lord first. Dropping to his knees, his eyes downcast, he waited for the White Lord to address him. Seconds later, a second and third messenger dropped to the ground beside him.

The gravel crunched under his heavy stride as he approached the messengers. He stopped before them and tapped his clawed foot impatiently. Watching the messengers before him grow still with apprehension brought a smile to his face.

What have you to report, Irgus? His voice vibrated through the air. The sailor raised his head slowly to meet the White Lord’s menacing gaze.

The sailor shook uncontrollably, his pasty skin even whiter than normal, sweat running down his face to the tip of his nose as his fear built.

My Lord, I’ve word from General Duwo. He’s not pleased with his payment, he said. His voice squeaked and cracked from the strain of trying to overcome his anxiety.

No? sneered the White Lord. Tell me, what else did the old fool have to say?

He, uh, he doesn’t like dealing with me. He, uh, wants you to send someone less…

Less like you, Irgus?

The man nodded and lowered his head, the motion one of abject misery. The man expected to die, and rightly so. Others had died for much less. He allowed silence to settle over the area as he listened to the hearts pounding in his messengers’ chests. After allowing a while for tension to build, he shifted his feet, and the three men shuddered before him.

Tell me about the shipment from Duwo, the White Lord commanded, Is it closer to what we agreed upon?

He watched Irgus glance at the two other messengers. The sneaky man was thinking himself lucky to have gone first because it was obvious from the others’ shaking that they had bad news to deliver as well. No doubt, Irgus thought he’d die quickly. After all, the White Lord was known to be merciful in death on occasion. Typically, with the first bearer of bad news. It was the following messengers who were the ones he spent more time on, drawing out the torture for his own amusement. He stared down at the sailor, who appeared to be lost in thought.

Irgus? The White Lord barked at the man, causing him to pale even more.

Oh. Oh, yes. It is still not what was agreed upon, but it’s much better than the last several shipments, my lord.

The general thinks to test me. He thinks he is beyond my reach. That is good to know, said the White Lord.

He paced in front of the messengers, then stopped in front of Irgus. He stared down at the top of the sailor’s bowed head. Taking a deep breath, he could smell the fear emanating from all three men. He licked his lips, feeling hunger build within him. He forced it down and leaned toward the sailor.

Get up, Irgus. I’m not done with you. You will go back to the general, particularly because he thinks you are beneath him. You will deliver payment for the next shipment, regardless of if the shipment meets our demands.

Irgus looked up with surprise. Relief and confusion in his bloodshot eyes.

But my Lord… stammered the cowardly man.

The White Lord glared at him, silencing the man mid-sentence.

Oh, yes. He will get his payment, Irgus. Come see me again tomorrow at the Citadel. I will have the payment waiting for you to take. Now go. Your sniveling face irritates me.

Irgus rose to his feet and ran back toward the ship he had disembarked from. The White Lord watched as the weak man ran, probably thanking his gods for their mercy. The Heridon smiled at the idea of showing benevolence toward the general, who was stepping out of line with his wishes. He knew it would make no sense to one as weak of mind as Irgus, but that didn’t matter to the Heridon. What Irgus did not understand was that the general was getting his payment alright. However, it would not be the gold coin and jewels he was expecting.

A wicked grin spread across his face as he stepped in front of the second trembling messenger.

General Duwo was going to find out just how far the White Lord’s influence could reach across Mythnium. The old fool would be lucky if the revelation left him with breath in his lungs.

One

Tell us of the dragons of old.

Sing us the songs of the mighty beasts.

Let us dream of them,

see visions of them,

remember them.

~Children’s Dragon Song

Asizable crowd gathered in the clearing between Elmnas and the surrounding Deep Forest. They gathered there every morning, sometimes the same people, sometimes new ones, who had not yet witnessed the impressive and unbelievable spectacle for themselves. All of them kept a wide berth, content to stay behind the lines of the royal guard stationed immediately around the subject of their wonder.

The massive black dragon had flown over Elmnas just days prior and stood within the ring of elven warriors. He took in the curious and fearful stares of every elf, human, and dwarf that ventured into the clearing for a closer look. The day he arrived, he had flown over Elmnas several times, swooping closer and closer in ever narrower circles. With each pass, he cast telepathic messages to convey his desire to land and to converse with King Mronas and the elven leaders. He finally landed in the clearing where he was immediately surrounded by the king’s guard. They met him with weapons drawn. He watched their hand signals and searched the Captain of the Guard’s mind. He realized with great relief: they had orders only to monitor and defend but not to attack without provocation. So, the dragon sat on his haunches and waited.

He was still waiting. However, despite being irked at the Elven King’s delay, he used the time to investigate the curious flows of magic emanating from Elmnas. There was the magic of the giant elyan tree itself. The currents flowed along the tree, out along its branches, and into the air surrounding the tree. They also flowed down along its roots, among the homes and shops, along the streets where roots lay hidden underneath, and out into the clearing.

There was also the magic manipulated by the human mage called Orinus. He had known of the mage, of course, but to sense the mage’s touch on the currents from so close, the dragon wondered how the mage managed to survive so much contact. No other creatures on Mythnium could handle so much, except the dragons themselves, and the White Lord. Was the mage even aware of that fact?

Then there was the beautiful magic of the Silver Dwarf. The song of metal had once again risen on Mythos. The dragon hoped to meet the dwarf gifted with its secrets. For so long, his kind had yearned to meet all the dwarves who had harnessed the metal song, but their separation from Mythos made it impossible. Now, he would meet a Metal Singer!

Hunger gnawed at his stomach, but he held his peaceful, though intimidating pose, determined to not move from his spot until the king arrived.

The dragon sent out a telepathic message to the Captain of the Guard, who was about to change shifts. He said, Pray, Captain, please make King Mronas aware that I grow weary of waiting. For one, it is rude to leave a guest waiting for so long. For another, I’m growing hungry. As much as I loathe eating anything your community might find valuable, I may be left with little choice.

The pale expression on the captain’s face revealed he heard the dragon’s message loud and clear. He left before his replacement arrived, and the dragon watched with amusement as the captain raced back toward the tree city.

Horns sounded, and, with eyes blurry from sleep, the dragon looked up. It was the morning of the next day, and a large group approached. All the curious observers had been chased away. Instead, a double ring of guards surrounded him, weapons drawn and ready. He turned his attention to the approaching party. Pleased with the retinue moving toward him, the dragon smiled.

He lay flat on the ground, with his head resting on his forearms, determined to make himself as diminutive and welcoming as he could. He grimaced at the thought of how much had been lost since the Cataclysm; now the humanoid species perceived his presence as a threat. The realization hurt more than he had imagined it would: to feel the fear emanating from those gathered before him broke his heart.

The ring of guards divided to let the group through. He noted the tension in everyone present, but his attention was drawn to the one who stood at the forefront.

The King himself. Finally.

He sent a gentle thought toward the king.

With hearts as one, King Mronas. Thank you for coming to see me.

King Mronas stiffened at the mental intrusion, but then stared into the dragon’s face, taking in the shiny, almost luminescent, scales as black as the night sky. Sharp incisors poked out of the dragon’s mouth. The king moved to one side of the dragon’s head, which was as big as a full-grown horse, and looked into the beast’s giant, silver eye. When he saw no threat, the king relaxed visibly, and motioned his party to come closer.

He bowed and said to the dragon.

With hearts as one! As you must suspect, your presence has caused quite the stir, but you’re welcome here if you’re truly here peacefully.

I am, said the beast. I assure you; I mean none of you any harm. Thank you for not attacking. I would have had to defend myself, and that would have turned this meeting into one that none of us wanted.

The king repeated the dragon’s words to the group behind him.

Mronas turned his attention back to the dragon, and whispers rose behind him, demanding to get answers to a myriad of questions. He ignored them all and, with a simple hand signal, demanded their silence.

You know who I am, but do you have a name we may address you by?

The dragon blinked his silver eye.

I am Ulryth. I’m a leader among the Imperial Dragons, the second-tier dragons who survived the Cataclysm.

Mronas’s eyes widened in shock.

You… You survived the Cataclysm?

Murmurs of shock and denial rose behind him, but he waved them away. Mronas turned to address the crowd.

Members of the Elven Council: I assure you I want to seek answers to all the same questions you have, but considering the discourtesy we’ve already shown our guest, I must ask you all to return to the palace. I will converse with this Imperial Dragon, who is called Ulryth. Then, if he can remain among us for a little while, we can send emissaries to ask all these questions.

He braced himself for arguments from the council members but after a moment of silence during which each of them stared blankly ahead, they nodded their assent, and began their return to the great tree.

You have good people on your council, said Ulryth.

Mronas turned back to the dragon.

Did you just communicate with all of them? he asked in astonishment.

One comment cast among them all, yes. I cannot have different conversations at once, but I can share one statement among many, as I did upon my arrival.

That was one reason for our delay to greet you, and I apologize. We feared you were an illusion cast by⁠—

The White Lord. I can understand that which is why I’m grateful your people responded with caution rather than attacking.

Mronas allowed his gaze to wander over the length of the beast, noting its size, and then found questions of his own rising.

You say your kind survived the Cataclysm. Ulryth, that was over eight hundred years ago. During my great-grandfather’s time. Our histories teach us little of dragons, except that your species was lost during that chaotic time. We were wrong. But this begs the question: where has your kind been all this time? And another one: why are we just now seeing you?

He waited for an answer, but none came right away, so he continued, And is the red dragon that attacked Farcaste Reach known to you?

Ulryth closed his eyes halfway, frustration evident in his face as he clenched his jaw and ground of his teeth.

I know, we dragons have a lot to answer for and a lot to explain. First, let me address your last question, because it is most pressing, and part of why I am here. The red dragon is an Imperial Dragon like me, but she is not one of us. Some time ago, the White Lord found her abandoned egg. During the incredible eclipse of the suns, his high priest coaxed her out of her shell, and during the ceremony, her soul was twisted. We dragons don’t understand what drove the White Lord to search for our caches of eggs or what his motives are in using her as a weapon. We hope she will find us, and that we can help her learn her true heritage, which is not one of wanton violence.

Mronas clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing as the dragon continued.

As for our presumed extinction, that was by design. The Cataclysm was caused by recklessness and a strange, unnatural search for power by one of our own. He was called Tanin. We had exiled him because of his peculiar interests, but he was one of the few who could hide his mind from our collective intrusions, so we did not know what he was doing.

Mronas interrupted, Wait, are you telling me the Cataclysm was caused by one of you?

Ulryth grumbled deep within his chest, an indication of his conflicting mirth and frustration.

Oh, your people have truly forgotten! My dear King of the Elves, we are a grand species. Before the cataclysm, we were a people of science and technology long lost to Mythnium. Yes. Tanin caused the Cataclysm. Quite by accident, we believe, but we took full responsibility for that tragic turn of events for our world, so we exiled ourselves, taking our knowledge and our advancements with us.

But where? Where? Mronas paused. I know. The lost continent! Your species must be on Mynos somewhere.

Ulryth said, Yes. We’re on Mynos, where we’ve cast off all the most dangerous of our knowledge and technology, hoping we will never again be the cause of something so chaotic and dreadful as the cataclysm again.

But that still does not explain why you’re here now. Revealing yourself to us.

Ulryth sat silent for a few moments, then resumed the conversation, sadness mixed with determination in his tone.

When the White Lord used the red dragon as a weapon, we knew we could sit idle no longer. To use her, through manipulation and false teachings. To attack, harm, and kill without provocation. It is an abomination. As I said, we hope to reach her and bring her into our fold, to prevent another from becoming like Tanin. But while we hope for that, we must make other moves to help hinder the White Lord. We’re already collecting our scattered egg caches, which we had been content to leave dormant until a time when we were sure it was safe to move among you all again, but he has forced us to collect them and move them to Mynos for safety.

Mronas frowned as he said, Are you telling me the only reason you’re making yourselves known to us is because one of your unguarded eggs was hatched and twisted? This has nothing to do with the fact that the White Lord has been terrorizing Mythnium for hundreds of years and is getting more powerful with each new excursion away from Croglinke?

I know it appears as though we only care for our own. Nothing I say right now will dissuade you. Most of the people of Mythnium no doubt would agree with you. I assure you that’s not true. There’s so much more, but, King Mronas, there is too much to tell, too much to share. I hate to cut our conversation off, but I’ve not eaten for several days. I am quite hungry.

As though to prove his point, a deep gurgling erupted from the dragon’s stomach and moved up to the dragon’s mouth, where he bit back a small belch that still resulted in a puff of smoke from between his teeth.

Oh, my. Excuse me.

Mronas stepped back from the smoking maw, alarm etched on his face.

Of course. Of course, he said. The sudden display served as a reminder of how little he knew of dragons and caused him to stammer. I don’t know what your kind eats.

Ulryth moved to a standing position and flexed his wings.

I’ll fly out over the lake. I recall Folgen Lake was home to some rather large whalins. If those aren’t enough, I will head to the mountains and feast on a few amaroks.

King Mronas regained his composure and bowed to the dragon. Happy eating. When can we expect your return?

The dragon flapped its wings, forcing Mronas to lean into the breeze to keep his footing. As it hovered off the ground above him, Ulryth responded, I’ll be back in the morning. Is this clearing acceptable for me to return to?

Mronas said, Yes. That is settled then. Good day to you then, Ulryth.

He watched in bemused wonder as the black beast circled the clearing, gaining height and speed. Then, the dragon flew out of sight over the trees of the Deep Forest toward the Walker Mountains.

Two

What separates the sentient races from the animals is not their concept of a soul, for they fail to realize that all life is created with a soul, a means to reach the life beyond. The beauty of sentient souls lies in their freedom to choose their own path. As gods, we can alter the predetermined paths, but all sentient beings possess the ability to reason, deduce, and decide. They can go beyond survival and instinct. They can choose wisely. They can choose foolishly. You will never see the vicious amarok acting outside its instinct. The elf will break free from its traditions and training, motivated by a desire for a better life or out of sheer curiosity.

~Igma – Goddess of Wisdom

Ulryth sensed the nervous energy among the group that stepped through the line of elven guards. It irked the great dragon that the elves still felt a need to keep guards posted, but when he arrived that morning, the guard had been cut by half. They had also been ordered back into the edges of the city where they were less obvious. That was until the king and his party approached. Then the guards formed a solid line ahead of the king until he bade them to let him pass.

Ulryth lowered himself to the ground as he had the day before. He turned his head so that one eye stared at the approaching party without blinking. Behind the king walked an older elf, an adviser. He had a sack of writing scrolls tossed over one shoulder and a small tablet tucked under his arm. Just beyond the adviser walked an elf the dragon suspected to be Grazina, the king’s daughter. Her hair was pulled back from her face, revealing the evidence of burns she had suffered many years before. She showed no self-consciousness, but rather a hardened confidence and self-assuredness. Next to her stood the two that he was most excited to meet, Orinus and Estryl.

He stared at the pair. The magical currents moved around them, casting clearly visible auras. He wished he could converse with the two of them alone, to gauge their knowledge and skills. He blinked and calmed himself. Then, he focused on the king.

With hearts as one, Majesty, Ulryth said.

Mronas bowed before the dragon, motioning the others to do the same.

With hearts as one, the king responded slowly as the others joined him in greeting. Mronas stood upright. The old elf behind him spread out his cloak and sat with the tablet on his lap, a scroll unrolled, and his pencil ready to transcribe.

Mronas pointed toward the older elf.

Ulryth, I’d like to introduce you to my uncle, Bartholomew. He was an adviser to my father and is now my most trusted counselor. I asked him to come along to transcribe as much as he can so we may add this encounter to our archives.

Of course, Ulryth said. To make that easier for him, should I project to each of you? Or might your mage know a spell that can help?

Mronas looked back at Orinus, then back at the dragon and asked, How do you know he is a mage?

Ulryth said, Imperial and Elder Dragons can see the flow of the magical currents within their proximity. Because of this, I can see how your mage interacts and reacts to the currents. Some of it is natural ability, I think, but he must have had a great deal of training as well.

Mronas blinked at the news. To be able to see the magical currents. It seemed impossible. He stood in silence for a moment until Bartholomew cleared his throat, indicating he wanted to know what to write.

Turning to Orinus, Mronas asked, Do you have a spell that can reveal the dragon’s thoughts to the rest of us?

Orinus gazed into the distance and frowned, but then shook his head. I don’t know any spells that could do that without harming our brains. It would take a very narrow focus. I could do it for maybe one or two of us, but not all of us at once.

Mronas nodded and turned back to Ulryth.

Very well, the dragon responded to Mronas, please tell them to prepare themselves. Telepathy can come as quite the shock to those who’ve never experienced it before.

Mronas passed on the warning.

Hello, to you all, greeted Ulryth. Estryl’s eyes popped wide open, and her hands flew to her head like she had a sudden headache. Orinus smiled as the dragon’s greeting washed through his mind like a passing breeze.

Mronas regarded Bartholomew, who sat staring with his jaw hanging open.

Uncle, will you be okay? he asked.

The older elf composed himself, focused his attention on the scroll, and started scribbling. Mronas laughed and stepped to stand beside his uncle.

Ulryth said, My apologies for the shock, especially to you, young dwarf. I must admit, I am most pleased to meet you, and the mage beside you.

Estryl and Orinus glanced at each other.

Why? Estryl stammered.

The dragon responded, As I was just telling the king, our kind can see the magical currents in our immediate area.

In your case, Estryl, certain magical currents are literally attracted to you. I can see them leaving their natural flow as they draw closer to you.

Estryl looked down at her body and then back at the dragon.

But I don’t feel them, she said, her voice a whisper.

Don’t you, my dear? Ulryth challenged, When you look at a piece of metal that you are working on? Do you not feel moved to manipulate it a certain way? Do you not feel as though you’re being filled up? Then, when you sing, do you not feel as though that expansive feeling is flowing through you? Out of you? Into the piece you are working on?

Estryl, eyes wide at how concisely the dragon explained what it felt like to sing to the metal, merely gaped at the dragon, unable to respond. She realized those feelings were evidence of her own access to the magical currents themselves.

The dragon shifted his attention to Orinus. And you, mage. I have been aware of you for a long time, and hoped the time would come when we could meet.

Orinus crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin, not in pride, but almost in defiance.

I’m not a great mage, he said. Surely there are others who would garner more of your attention than me.

Ulryth scoffed at the man. You dismiss your skill? Is it not true that the training you received from many mages, sorcerers, and witches ultimately left you feeling as though it was all lacking something? Something more visceral? More natural? Did you not feel as though most of those other mages you refer to were more for show than actual skill and expertise?

Orinus cocked his head to the side. He stared at the dragon and said, You’re well-informed, Dragon. Considering that no one has seen any of your kind in centuries, how is it you know so much about us, while we all know so little about you and your kind?

Ulryth chuckled. His body shook as his mirth at being challenged by the mage rolled through the minds of the group. They all smiled in reaction to the sensation it had caused.

The king cleared his throat, drawing attention back to him. He said, I have one other to introduce to you. She is a representative from Wargate. This is Captain Tristal White Stone.

The king waved to Tristal, who stepped forward. She bowed low to the dragon.

Well met, great dragon, she said after she stood up and straightened her dress uniform, adjusting a wide belt that held a short blade on one hip and a dagger on the other.

Please, call me Ulryth, said the dragon. It is an honor to meet someone from the great school of military strategy. Now,