Dragon's Heart
Authors: LaVerne Thompson
Dragon’s Heart
Story
Of
The
Brethren
LaVerne Thompson
This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales
or persons, living or dead, or other status is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2012 by LaVerne
Thompson
All rights reserved, including
the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever
known, not known or hereafter invented, or stored in any storage or retrieval
system, is forbidden without written permission of the author. LaVerne
Thompson. [email protected]
First e-book edition 2012
Isisindc Publishing, LLC
Lavernethompson.com
Editor- Lara Parker
Line Editor- Zena Gainer
Cover illustration by Fiona Jayde
Cover model Jimmy Thomas
http://romancenovelcovers.com
ISBN- 9780-9859646-0-3
DEDICATION
This one is for all those who
dreamt of dragons. Not just owning one, but being one.
Acknowledgements
This story was a long way in coming to this point. I have so many to
thank for pushing me on, but I have to give shout outs to my RPW writers group:
Eve Tesoro, E. W. Walsh, Scarlet Hunter, Tess Black, and my Strydie. Also, to
my sometimes partner in crime, Stephanie Williams. And last, but so not least,
VR. Love you all.
From fire we’re born,
from fire we thrive,
from fire we breathe,
by fire we die
.
LEGEND
Once
, these
majestic beasts soared through the heavens at will.
Masters of wind, rain, thunder, and lightning. Favored by
Mother Earth and ruling over her domain, but all that happened before man
embraced the coming of the one God and Earth magicks slowly disappeared. Or so
legend had it.
Once
, dragons
numbered in the hundreds of thousands, but only a handful of hatchlings had
been born in a thousand years. Their number slowly dwindled.
Once,
predators
now prey. With their magic weakening, humans—with the help of one of the
brethren’s own—hunted and killed dragons, their mates and any
offspring.
The survivors of the purges
had to leave Mother Earth or die. Earth was no longer safe. Only one place left
they could go.
The
brethren had to return to the lost land of their beginning by opening a gateway
to another realm. Earth was merely one of many worlds existing on parallel
planes and those with the knowledge and the power could travel through gateways
connecting them but at a great risk. They were unsure how to open such a gate
or where they would end up if they succeeded. Memory said it could be done.
They had to try or die.
Still,
some decided to stay. Earth was home. To remain behind and survive, they would
willingly forgo their birthright, forever shed their dragon skin, drain their
remaining powers and become fully human.
Some
simply wanted to die as dragons on this world. They were too old for change.
Dragons had roamed Earth’s skies for ten thousand years. The brethren could not
imagine a sky without dragons in flight. Some would not surrender this
heritage. They refused to live as anything other than what they were on the
planet of their birth.
Before
the first of the sun's rays crested the eastern horizon, dragons gathered at
their sacred place high in a remote, hard to get to area in the Sperrin
Mountains of Erin, an area few humans had ever seen, but every dragon knew. It
was a special place, a circle of power controlled by a ring of stones with no
name where the first dragon appeared.
Those
who would journey in search of the world from whence they began formed a circle
around one dragon. The strongest amongst them stood in the center of the
stones, his massive twelve foot frame dominating the area. Like the first
dragon who opened the portal, a Dark Dragon Lord led them. As dark as the
deepest night, as memory said the first Dragon Lord to have been. Unlike other
dragons, whose scales shimmered with a spectrum of colors, his scaled massive
form seemed to absorb light. No color whatsoever reflected off a hide appearing
as smooth as silk but impregnable as titanium.
His
raised great head showed a spiked ridge running from the bridge of his nostrils
over his skull down the length of his body. Green slitted eyes—the only
color on him—filled with emerald fire, looked around at the dragons
gathered just within the circle and outside it.
He turned so he could survey them all. No great number
remained.
His
father—their leader—dead, killed by treachery. His mother’s dying
roar of rage still echoed in his blood, but before she died she destroyed the
one who killed her mate.
Draakar
had come to their aid too late. He was young for a dragon, but as their son and
the most powerful among them, he led now as their Dark Lord, and he would not
let the brethren down. But, so few of them were left to lead. So many dead or
their magick weak. He could wait no longer.
He’d
mated last night, joining with the strongest female amongst the remaining
brethren, a mate who could call forth his powers. Draakar hoped it would be
enough. He would make sure of it. In one last effort to save their race, he
would use his powers to open a portal to another world.
The
Dark Lord turned to look down at the smaller golden dragon standing at his
side. The realization of what he had done fractured his heart. The pain
something he would have to endure for the rest of his long life. The golden
dragon was now his mate for life, but not by choice. His sacrifice for the
brethren. Their needs over his own.
The
dragons gathered channeled all their power to him, helping him open a gate to
the beginning world. It had not been done in the time of any dragon alive,
there had been no need, but it had been done in the long ago past, and dragons
were long-lived with boundless memories. Need drove them to attempt it now. The
memories in their blood, passed down to them from the first ancestors, promised
it could be done. The first dragons, the forbearers, the ones who came from
another place, showed them the way.
To a place not of this earth, not of this world.
Now
the Dark Lord and his remaining brethren used those memories as a guide to
their realm of origin. They dug deep within themselves to the part of their
souls still binding them to a past left behind. From a time so long ago, no
dragon living remembered this place, yet no living dragon could forget its
existence. Time to go home, back to their beginnings. Home to the birthplace of
fire, the birthplace of the heart of the dragon—Akgon. They had to return
home to survive. The time of dragons on earth was over.
As
the sun glistened high in the sky, above the Dark Dragon Lord the very air
trembled, a swirling gray cloudy mass appeared. They had done it, created a
portal, but the Dark Lord had to maintain it. The only one strong enough to do
so. He had to hold it open till all who wanted to go crossed over. One by one
the dragons flew through and disappeared within the cloud until he remained the
last of those who wanted to leave. Before leaving he tried one last time,
sending a mental plea to his brethren who watched from the ridge. His great
body shuddered with exhaustion from using such strong magicks but, by will
alone, he would hold the gate open a while longer.
Come with us. It is not too late.
A
unanimous response to his plea floated into his consciousness.
No
.
But
we wish you all a safe journey.
The
Dark Dragon Lord had no choice. Even his great strength could not hold the gate
open much longer.
Then I wish you speed
beyond the wind. Goodbye
.
With
a heavy heart for those electing to stay, for the life they left behind,
Draakar raised his wings and followed his remaining brethren through the gate.
A bright flash of silver lightning appeared to swallow him as he crossed over.
The swirling cloud folded in on itself, forever closing the gateway behind him,
leaving a faint scent of smoke upon the air.
The ones staying
behind had little time for regret, much too late for that. Their combined
strength would not equal the power of a Dragon Lord, and even rarer, those
magicks available to the Dark Dragon. Only three had been born in their
thousands of years on Earth. Two were dead and the last survivor now gone.
With
the sun hovering above the other horizon, casting the sky in a purple haze, the
day ended. Tomorrow would be a new beginning. Those who chose to forsake their
brethren heritage and become human shed their dragon skin for the last time.
They changed as they turned, walking away from the stones on human legs, using
the last of their magic to get down the mountain. A few others spread their
iridescent wings and took to the heavens, one more time. For a short time, for
the last time, dragons rode the currents in the night sky until those too were
gone.
Gone to die.
Those
who chose life joined with humans and never passed down the secret of their
dragon ancestry to their offspring.
The
dragon blood lay dormant. Even those with great promise of magicks were never
taught. Those brethren now lived human lives, with human life spans. They had
given up their magic. Finally, all who remained to teach their offspring and to
show them the way of the dragon passed from life. And while the blood passed
from generation to generation, weak in some, strong in others, it did not stir.
There was no one left to call to it. Dragons became a thing of myth and legend.
A fairytale.
Yet
the dragon blood waits…it sleeps…
Waiting.
Waiting.
Dragons
are known for their patience.