Chapter One -Terra
Jimryr awoke who knew how long later, lying in a pile of leaves, naked, in human form.
An old man stood a few feet away. No, not a man—a dragon, dressed in court robes and leaning on a staff.
His hair formed a white glow around his face and head: mustache, beard, hair, eyebrows…
Jimryr scrambled backward, but the man didn’t move.
“Who are you? What do you want? Where am I?” The staff didn’t look like a weapon, but in human form…
Jimryr glanced around frantically for a likely branch, anything to use to fend off an attack.
He didn’t have time to shift and defend himself.
“One question at a time, please,” the older dragon said.
“I’m old and will forget the second question before I answer the first. As for who I am, my name is Sakaris, a mage of the High Reaches Court, and you can stop looking for a club.
Had I any intention of hurting you, I’d have sent you back to greet the alpha’s flame.
My apologies for your abduction, but as you faced your imminent demise, I thought you wouldn’t argue.
It wasn’t my intention, but you got caught in the portal as I tried to save another.
Because of your efforts to save the same dragon, I’ll consider us allies, though I don’t know you personally. What is your name?”
No use hiding his identity. No one cared about a permanently maimed, unaffiliated dragon. “Jimryr.”
Sakaris inclined his head. “Of what court?”
“Does it matter? I’m the last one, so there is no court.”
“For that, I’m truly sorry. I am of High Reaches now, though I’ve been a part of many courts in my long life. I’m not so sure of my own affiliation now since King Locryn Thorne’s brother murdered him.” The sadness in the man’s misty eyes hinted at how deeply sorry he was.
King Locryn dead? Jimryr didn’t know him personally but had heard good things from Mystral. Their world needed all the good dragons available.
Sakaris continued, “As I saved you from certain death, I hope you’ll forgive me for taking you away from our realm. Will others miss you?”
“Why? Do you intend to make yourself a dragon-hide rug?”
He can try, Jimryr’s dragon seemed to say, though not able to form words, just send feelings.
The old…Sakaris chuckled. “No. But I cannot return you to Adrakus. Not yet.”
“Where am I?” Jimryr glanced around at trees too tall to grow in the mountains.
“In the human realm, known as Terra.”
Human realm! He’d heard rumors of the place but had no desire to go, not after the cautionary tales of vehicles spouting smoke and hand weapons capable of killing at a distance.
Give him a sword any day. “Why have you brought me here?” He didn’t see any of the infernal machines he’d been told of.
Maybe they’d merely been tales to keep young dragons from venturing here.
“You have a task to complete before returning, since my portal caught you. I used it for a specific reason, so you must be part of the same destiny.”
Could the man give coherent answers? “What of the others in the fight?”
“I saved those I could but must get back. Many more need my help.”
“You’re leaving me here?” Jimryr spent most of his time alone. Still, to be in a strange place with no resources?
“I’m afraid so. Being the last of your court shows you’re a survivor.
I’ll return for you one day, and the fight won’t be for a single court, but for all dragons of Adrakus.
” He shuffled forward and placed a hand on Jimryr’s head.
His skin tingled under the mage’s fingers.
“There. Now you can understand the humans here. You’ll also learn their ways more quickly.
There are dragons in this world. Some left our realm for good reasons, and others for not-so-good reasons.
To be triumphant in the ultimate battle will take all we can enlist. I am counting on you to find them, blend them into a fighting force. ”
“Me? What…” Mystral would’ve been much better suited for a commander.
Between one moment and the next, Sakaris disappeared.
“You can’t leave me here!” Jimryr screamed into the night. “Come back!”
Low rumbling, like a contented dragon, sounded in the distance, coming closer, accompanied by loud, pounding music. Lights appeared, one after the other, stopping a few feet away. The growling creatures fell silent. Jimryr lifted his arms to shield his eyes.
His dragon was poised for a fight.
“Lookie here,” a woman’s throaty voice drawled. “A naked man out in the middle of nowhere. Sound familiar, y’all?”
“I have fantasies like this,” another, younger woman answered dreamily, though her rough voice sounded as though she’d spent too much time belching fire.
Someone else snickered. “I bet you do.”
The woman who’d spoken first, who appeared to be the leader, dismounted some kind of machine, slowly approaching while removing a head covering to show a braid of snowy white hair, reminding Jimryr of the mage.
She wore leather on her legs and torso, unlike any armor Jimryr knew.
The weathered skin around her eyes crinkled.
Colorful artwork decorated the exposed parts of her arms and neck.
Jimryr sniffed, evaluating scents. Another dragon! An alpha. Not the one who’d attacked, right? No, she didn’t smell the same.
“Name’s Zorah,” the alpha said, voice a deep rumble. “Yours? It’s okay to conveniently forget. Most of us did. Alcohol helps. If that doesn’t work, see Ace. He keeps the good stuff.” She grinned. “We’ll likely give you a club name anyway if you stick around.”
What? Although the woman’s drawl seemed to last a few days, her words didn’t turn into sense, except for the name part, an innocent enough piece of information to impart. “Jimryr.” He no longer had a family name, or a court. At the moment, he wasn’t too sure about having a life.
“Howdy, Jim. Tell me.” The woman moved closer, peering down at him. “What’s your court affiliation?”
“I…I don’t have one.” Dragon courts frowned on independent dragons, deeming them undesirable outcasts. How would this woman respond? “Who do you fight for?” Surely, he hadn’t escaped the battle to fall into enemy hands.
“Fight?” Zorah glanced around. “Unless you mean the occasional barroom brawl, then no one.”
Fourteen men and women huddled around the woman, a mix of mostly betas, with no other alpha and a few omegas—all dragons, all wearing a combination of blue cloth and black leather. Jewelry or chains glinted in the light. Chains?
Most of the chains hung around necks or seemed to connect the wearer’s belt to their back pockets. A few of the dragons wore rings or earrings.
A gorgeous omega sauntered over, displaying more confidence than most alphas in Jimryr’s experience.
She squatted before him, revealing an unbelievable amount of cleavage over the top of her leather vest—also colorfully decorated.
A silver ring glinted on one side of her nose.
Her honey-colored hair hung long on one side but was shaved to her scalp on the other.
Had she suffered an injury and had to have her head shaved for treatment? The same thing happened to Jimryr once.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve definitely seen you in my dreams, big boy,” the omega crooned. A patch on her vest said, “DeKalb County Dragons,” though Jimryr wasn’t sure how he could read human language. The strange little mage mentioned his touch making Jimryr able to understand the local humans.
There had been a strange little mage, right?
“Pull in your claws there, Fen. Remember arriving here totally confused? He’s gonna need a minute.” Zorah looked around. “Anybody got clothes he can wear?”
“Such a pity to cover all that gorgeousness,” Fen groused, bottom lip protruding in a pout.
“I got a rain suit,” a beta male said, running over with a gray garment made of some kind of unfamiliar material. Not cotton. Not wool. He helped Jimryr into the suit without a word or any innuendo. Hot. Sticky. But at least he wasn’t naked anymore.
Nakedness didn’t normally bother him, for how could one shift in clothes? The clothes never survived. Still, standing in front of fifteen clothed dragons made him self-conscious. He kept his maimed hand balled into a fist.
Zorah focused back on Jimryr. “We weren’t planning on any new recruits, but looks like we got one, anyhow.
Welcome to Terra, son. More specifically, a wide spot in the road outside of Atlanta, Georgia.
Haven’t heard of this place? That’s probably for the best. You’ll learn soon enough.
We were unaffiliated when we arrived, too.
We’re your court now, if you want us, though there’s no oath of honor, fealty bullshit. ” She spat on the ground.
“What happens if I don’t want you?”
All humor left Zorah’s face, her dark stare boring into Jimryr. Those nearly black eyes were a startling contrast to the white hair. “If you don’t want us, we'll roast and eat you.”
The surrounding dragons laughed. Were they laughing with him or at him?
Jimryr swallowed hard. “I’ll give you a shot,” he blurted.
Zorah grinned. “Good choice. If you’d said no, you’d be the first we ever had to eat.”