1. Chapter 1
Ten years after the Lost Ridge incident
I rubbed my temples, attempting to focus on the soldier reading out today’s reports. It was difficult, as a slew of sleepless nights had sapped my strength and ability to concentrate.
Since I’d taken command over the Lost Ridge five years ago, we hadn’t had such a terrible year as the one we were facing now. I performed my duties with due diligence, and sleepless nights were no excuse to miss the morning brief.
My eyes watered as I fought a terrible headache, trying to hide a grimace at the pain to maintain the decorum expected from Ormond Erenhart, Lord Commander of Varta Fortress. There wasn’t much in the report to capture my attention. It was the same rambling minutiae, day in and day out.
Undead ghouls, strigae, and remnants were swarming us, a never-ending stream of Vel demons created by foul or wild magic and violent deaths. Or at least I hoped it was wild magic because the other alternative was much more terrifying, meaning the keystone had cracked further, allowing the Lich King to gain more access to our lands.
What I really cared about was the report from Tomma, my lieutenant, who’d led a recent patrol. ‘The last patrol behind the Barrier. How far did they get?’ I asked my adjutant, grinding my teeth when he shook his head.
‘Not far, sir. The spectrae were closer than ever. The dragons had barely flown across before they had to retreat behind the Barrier. We … lost one rider. Tomma has gone to inform his family. That’s why the report is delayed. Poor boy, no one noticed he had broken from formation until it was too late, and the spectrae had already latched onto his dragon, draining his life.’
I exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in my body increase tenfold. ‘Fucking vampire ghosts. How many were there?’ I asked when I was finally able to control my voice. I was worried because the spectrae rarely appeared alone. They were the main threat to dragons and their riders when we travelled over the Barrier to patrol the Barren Lands, and now they had killed one of my men.
‘May I speak freely, sir?’
‘Yes, what is it?’
‘Why? Why are you trying to go deeper into enemy lands than the previous commanders have, especially with how dangerous its become?’
‘Because I want to see Katrass and confirm that the former capital of the Ozar Kingdom is still the smoking ruin the war chronicles describe, but the spectrae always force us to retreat. Why do you think that is?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘Me neither, and I can’t defend my people from what I can’t see. None of those lazy bastards at court seem to be concerned with how dangerous the Lost Ridge has become recently.’
I made a mental note to train my riders in techniques used to deal with swarms of spectrae and began drafting another hopeless letter. Despite my countless pleas to the king and the Council of Mages alerting them to our plight, no one believed that the spell on the Barrier keystone was failing. I had begged them to send a representative to investigate time and again, all to no avail.
I had one decent mage, a few healers, and a bunch of criminals for soldiers, with no hope it would ever get better. Ever since the avalanche caused by a rookie mage had changed the topography of the Lost Ridge, creatures mad with bloodlust had been descending on the borderlands, and it felt like the Crown had simply abandoned us.
Everything had changed after the opening of the small crevasse on the border of the Barren Lands, becoming increasingly dangerous. My unit had been the closest when it happened, and my dragon, Vahin, had rescued the sole survivor. The woman he’d dragged from the pile of rocks had looked more like a rag doll than a person, too filthy to even identify.
‘Tired already, Commander?’ Alaric walked in with a predatory grace and an all-knowing smile before standing beside me. I felt the touch of his magic as his hand effortlessly slid over the back of my chair, only for his fingers to brush against the base of my neck.
He was the only one who knew about the headaches that plagued me. Of the frustration of having to use all my self-control to tame the wild magic in my soul to prevent it from rising and making me go berserk. It was a small, covert gesture he did every morning to check on me, and as much as it had felt strange at the beginning, I was used to it now.
‘Ari. What are you doing here? I thought you were busy today,’ I snapped, wondering what had brought the dark fae to the map room after he had refused breakfast. ‘Shouldn’t you be digging through old manuscripts trying to find a way to replace the keystone?’ I grouched, still annoyed about the reports and our hopeless situation.
In spite of my attitude, Alaric simply shrugged, settling in beside me, unfazed by my outburst. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on him , I thought while my fist closed over the parchment before me, obscuring its bleak figures.
I’d really needed his company. He was the only person apart from my brother who made me feel like I could be myself without judgment. Just like I didn’t judge him whenever he’d place a hand on his chest, his mischievous smile darkening before excusing himself to head to his workshop. It was just another of his mannerisms I’d gotten used to after so many years in his company.
My tone was harsh, my words petty, but I was grateful for the moment of distraction his presence had gifted me. I’d lost several men yesterday, but losing a rider and his dragon pained me the most. We didn’t have many of them left.
Despite several attempts, dragons didn’t want to bond outside of certain families, and the spark of wild magic needed to bond with the beasts seemed to diminish with each generation, especially since some men had begun to marry outside of families with known dragon rider ancestry.
‘What set you on edge?’ Ari asked, and I pointed at the stack of papers.
‘That. If our losses keep piling up like this, I will have to ask for reinforcements before the regular draft. A request that will probably be denied,’ I said, not even trying to hide the bitterness in my voice.
He must have sensed my tension because he slid his fingers to my temples, massaging them slowly.
‘Close your eyes for a moment. You have a headache again?’ He probed in a matter-of-fact manner. I nodded and followed his command, letting his magic soothe the gnawing pain while I thought about the future of the fortress.
I dreaded the idea of bringing more untrained men to this isolated region, but I doubted I’d have a choice. The mountain fortresses always had two types of men: dragon riders, who conducted aerial defence and patrolled the Barren Lands; and the regular army, for threats that couldn’t be dealt with using dragon fire.
However, the quality of our ground forces had deteriorated year after year. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that the Crown wanted us to fail. The farm boys being recruited as foot soldiers, or even the nobles’ second sons sent here to ‘become men,’ were just fodder for the monsters.
The worst were the convicts—and keeping them in line added to my already tasking duties, but I couldn’t refuse. Otherwise, I would get nothing. So I took whomever was sent here, even if none of them could fight the way we needed them to.
They could manage in a dispute with ordinary humans, but what did the king expect them to do against foul magic and the vile creatures it bred? That, I didn’t know.
‘Thank you for staying with me in this godsforsaken place,’ I whispered. Alaric’s hands stilled for a moment before his calm touch continued. ‘Ask for a mandatory draft. Maybe your brother could help—he is lord marshal, after all,’ he suggested. Ari knew that despite the bleak responses coming from court, I was preparing for war.
‘I can’t. There would be a revolt. Our soldiers have always been recruited from volunteers.’ It helped that they were each well paid for their five years of service to the Crown.
Except for the criminals. They had a choice between service … or the gallows. The unlucky ones were sent to one of the fortresses, where they lived in a permanent war camp—albeit with the best food and alcohol this kingdom could provide.
It was a long time to spend in constant peril, and with the recent casualties, the large payout or chance of relative freedom had lost its appeal.
‘I think that’s enough, my lord. You look like you’re falling asleep,’ Alaric said in an amused tone. ‘I came to tell you that I’m going to Grey Stone Valley. I saw mention of a high concentration of aether there in a manuscript I read recently, along with something about a lake and the unusual properties of the stones found in its depths. The manuscript also noted that the Barrier crystals were taken from the mine close to its location.’
Alaric’s plans caught my attention, and I looked up to see the distracted expression he always wore when talking about his findings. I had asked the Council of Mages about the keystones the moment he had mentioned replacing the damaged one, and although they told me it wasn’t possible, I trusted my mage.
‘It’ll take you at least two days to get there by horse. I will go with you. I need the diversion, and if we ride Vahin we’ll be home before supper,’ I offered, pushing the chair back so hard that it fell over with a heavy thud.
‘Yes … well, if you insist.’ Alaric waved his hand in dismissal to the adjutant who’d waited patiently during our conversation. The man saluted and began gathering the day’s reports and stacking them into neat piles on my heavy oak desk.
It always amazed me how easily my men accepted Alaric’s orders. He wasn’t in the army. He wasn’t even human or from our kingdom; though his own kingdom—or rather, empire—was part of the Lowland Kingdoms, the coalition formed between all of our neighbouring territories after the Necromancer’s War.
One day, Ari had simply turned up, stating that he was an emissary of the dark fae empress to our kingdom of Dagome. He had asked for permission to investigate the wild magic in the Lost Ridge … and never left.
Initially, I’d suspected him of being a spy. But after several months of scrutinising his every move, which consisted of him either visiting the Barrier or reading ancient texts in the library, I had dismissed those concerns. I desperately needed a competent mage after the last one left for our capital of Truso, and he fit into life here so well that it seemed natural to offer him the position of fortress mage.
‘After you, my lord,’ Alaric urged with a wry grin, and I walked forward, heading towards the landing field.
From the outside, Varta Fortress might look like a gloomy castle, with its rough granite turrets and walls that seemed to grow from the mountainside; however, behind the imposing front was a mountain valley with a thriving town. The work of countless riders over the centuries, it had been a slow process developing the quiet trading post into the stronghold it was today, but it had flourished with a surprisingly pleasant atmosphere.
The granite ramparts housed a robust military presence, and the lower levels of the valley were full of barracks and training grounds supported by artisans. The middle held a large town with a central market square and all the buildings one would expect to find there: a tavern, healer’s house, a few permanent shops manned mainly by retired soldiers, and, to my men’s relief, a small but very popular brothel, which—thanks to the primarily male population—was a well-respected establishment.
Contrary to the rest of the kingdom, being a lady of the night was considered a highly reputable profession in the fortress.
Our permanent residents also lived at Varta Fortress.
Mated and unmated dragon riders, soldiers, and craftsmen occupied houses around the town square, which shared a corner with the landing field surrounded by rocky gardens. Here also stood the second-most-popular building in every fortress—the female boarding house, where unmated women lived during their yearly service.
On higher ground was the castle, carved directly into the side of the mountain. It contained not only the administrative buildings, the library, and a spacious courtyard, but also dragon caverns, a dungeon, and officers’ chambers, with the upper floor designated for the lord commander and fortress mage.
The castle was a perfect creation of dwarven architecture, dragon flame, and human magic. It was as well-appointed as any palace, even if its luxury was wasted on the men who occupied it.
My heavy sigh caught Ari’s attention.
‘Come now, Orm. Try to put your worries aside for a moment. You look like you want to rip someone to shreds. Should I take you outside and teach you how to use that dagger on your belt?’ Alaric had dropped his formal speech the moment we were alone, and I looked at my friend with a smirk.
‘As if …’ I jested, knowing all too well he was deadly with daggers.
‘Perhaps we could ask the local villages to increase the female population here even before Maiden’s Day? As far as I know, none of last year’s bond servants have stayed in the fortress. That could lead to unrest.’
I sighed again, shaking my head. ‘Tell me, how am I expected to guard the ridge when half of my men are busy wooing new bond maidens, and the horribly unprepared soldiers the king sends are cowering under the kitchen table?’
‘That barbaric custom never ceases to amuse me. Why do your kind insist on this yearly service for your women? Just marry them or lock the castle gates. One way or the other, they’ll stay. Giving them a choice always ends badly.’
‘So says the man who’s never lived with an angry woman. We don’t have enough females, and the riders can’t stay in the lowlands to court any partners.’ I shook my head, wishing he understood.
‘Yes, I know, your dragon always comes first,’ he said, exasperated, and I knew that without the bond, he wouldn’t be able to understand why we lived this solitary life.
He was right, though. Our beasts came first, and although they could live anywhere, they didn’t enjoy the lowlands or crowded places. They preferred high nests or deep caves and a vast sky to soar through. For the sake of our dragons, those who were bonded riders lived in the chain of fortresses so high in the mountains that the air burned our lungs. It was a dragon’s paradise, and our voluntary prison. That was the price we paid for our soul-deep bonds.
‘Ari, we don’t have a university where riders can mingle like mages do. Once you are chosen by a dragon—at the ripe old age of eight—you are sent to a training camp, where all you have are your brothers and your own fist. That’s why we have compulsory yearlong service for unmated females. It is an unfortunate, but necessary, evil. I don’t like it, but if it’s the only way for my men to meet a woman without resorting to despicable means, then I’ll gladly accept the guilt of having the women work here as support staff.’
Deep in our own thoughts, we walked across the vast landing field—a silent testimony to when the castle had been filled to the brim with dragons and their riders during the war. Now, we were left with the skeletal remains of a once-formidable force. With so many problems stemming from the Barren Lands, I would not repeal the bondage law I despised.
I mentally called for Vahin, and my dragon descended from the sky with an ear-splitting roar, landing gracefully on the grass before us. He was a massive beast, yet still as agile as a cat, even managing to look like one.
His ink-black opalescent scales were flecked with midnight-blue stripes in a pattern similar to the tigers of the jungle in the Lowland Kingdoms. His short snout and blue eyes with their narrow pupils could convey various expressions, and right now, the massive bastard was in a mischievous mood, headbutting me playfully.
Our minds connected, and I felt his joy at flying free at heights too dangerous for his rider. In answer to my call, Vahin flashed an image of a frozen-solid dark fae on his back into my thoughts. ‘Stop teasing, old friend. I need your help to get us to Grey Stone Valley,’ I said as I avoided looking in Alaric’s direction.
Vahin glanced to the side, a question forming in his mind. ‘Yes, it was Ari’s idea, but don’t pretend you dislike it. We haven’t flown together in far too long, and we both need it,’ I affirmed.
‘Don’t make me beg. I promise to behave.’ Alaric affectionately rubbed the dragon’s snout. Vahin huffed a cloud of smoke at the dark fae as his eye roll sent my companion into a fit of wheezing laughter.
I couldn’t blame the dragon. Expecting a dark fae to behave was asking for trouble, and Alaric was no exception. He was a prime example of his species in every way.
Tall and lean with well-defined muscles under silken light-grey skin and soft flowing white hair, usually braided or tucked behind his pointy ears, he was a work of art. Most remarkable were his eyes, which shone with a golden light that could shift into pools of crimson when he was angry or worked his spells. He was also a powerful mage, well-versed in both high magic and foul arcana, and, like many of his brethren, he was secretive and had a cold, cruel streak.
After my dragon’s display of humour, we settled onto his back, enjoying the sharp gusts of mountain winds as we adjusted ourselves. Vahin’s muscles coiled beneath us, and with a powerful beat of his wings, he shot into the sky, leaving Varta behind.
I exhaled slowly, letting my lungs adjust to the sharp, cold air before I settled into the familiar rhythm. Vahin manoeuvred between the mountain peaks, sometimes so close that the tip of his wing brushed the snow off the narrow cliffs.
I knew my beast did it to vex Alaric because I felt a wave of amusement each time the dark fae groaned after a sharp turn. Still, with Vahin’s strength, it only took an hour to arrive at the edge of the large valley. As soon as we dismounted, he leapt back into the air, circling above our heads to scout the area.
However, instead of being pleased with our swift arrival, Alaric tensed and looked around with a deep frown.
‘Hrae!’ 1 he shouted through his clenched teeth, and the way he slid into a defensive stance as I heard him curse made me very grateful that we were armed and in the company of a dragon.
1. Fuck!