Rake My Lust (Dragons of Blood and Bone #3)

12. Tales

12

TALES

A s Jarl Jorg reveals to Strom, Bjorn, and me what was truly buried in that underground cathedral in Unhaemmerten , we go silent. I feel all three of us pale, as we share the realization through our bond that we single-handedly returned the Black Dragon to its full strength by breaking the seal on that altar and unleashing the vast energy of the Black Dragon Five that filled it.

Horror consumes me; horror and shock at what we’ve done, as my bright drakaina gnashes her teeth inside me and wails. My black dragon of night rises up, swamping her as an icy silence fills me now, like graves. Though Jarl Jorg is calm as he watches us, I have no idea why he’s not beheading us right now.

Considering his ancient mission as one of the True Black Dragon Knights.

“Why are we not dead right now?” Bjorn voices my thought now as the same awfulness fills him. “Why haven’t you killed all three of us for unleashing the souls of the Black Dragon Five that were trapped there… and returning the Black Dragon to its fullest might?”

“I couldn’t just kill my great-grandson and Jarl-Heir out of hand, now could I?” Jarl Jorg smiles, but his look is far harder than that, as the raptor-keen side of his nature pins us. “In truth, though our order found out about what had been done soon after it happened, thanks to our ancient wards on that place, something stopped me from coming up to Magnussen lands and killing you three myself. I had to ask myself: why in all that’s holy would my incredible, good-hearted great-grandson partake in such an evil venture? With everything I know of Bjorn, and you also, Rikyava, I understood that you three are champions of our kind, though you have all experienced great hardship. I could not understand why a trio such as yours would want to unleash hell on earth. I concluded you didn’t—and that you were actually trying to stop the Black Dragon and did not know what you had done. Else, all three of you would be dead right now. By my talons, ripping out your hearts.”

“I believe it,” I say, knowing full well Jarl Jorg has the might to do it.

A clean, swift death—rather than the endless punishment of Jarl Oggi.

“In any case,” Annika adds, “you three are not diabolical schemers, but rash youngsters in love. Your kind would only act in such a dire manner to help each other, so we surmised you had been told to go there under false pretense. That someone else encouraged you, and said you would find power there.”

As Grandma Annika says it, I recall the voice of my Bloodwalker Ancestor from the Void of Ancestors, which encouraged me to break the seal on that altar. I feel sick, deep inside, as I know for certain now someone was playing me.

I have no idea who would have the power to mimic the voice of an Ancestor from beyond the Void, and trick me into thinking they were the drakaina from my bloodline who had created the Black Dragon and subsequently given everything to destroy it.

Not only that, but I also know now that Maryse’s voice inside me was false when it told me to go find Unhaemmerten , and when it encouraged me to break through the stone triptych that guarded the underground cathedral. Old Ruta Bein and Maryse’s youngest mate Vjen encouraged us to go, as well, but they were only following up on the message I had already been given by Maryse herself from beyond the Void.

I know I have been duped now, as I take a moment to process.

And understand that listening to the Ancestors is not as easy as I thought.

“Yes… I see that someone lied to you,” Jarl Jorg says as he watches us.

“As a Bloodwalker, I’ve received messages from the Void.” Some part of me hesitates to tell him of my mistake, though I know I need to. “They sounded like voices I trusted… three times now. Encouraging me to go to Unhaemmerten , and break the seals that kept that stone altar safe.”

“Someone is impersonating Ancestors? Through the Void?” Annika’s eyebrows go up now, as Mathilde inhales a shocked breath.

“ Mormor … is that even possible?” Mathilde turns to her grandmother with enormous eyes.

“I did not think so until this very moment.” Annika blinks at us. Reaching out, she takes my hand. “This is serious, youngling. To my knowledge, never has an Ancestor come through the Void and falsified who they were. I did not think it was even possible. Ancestors can come through the Void and lie about what they want, to manipulate us into doing their bidding… but never change their soul-imprint so entirely that we do not recognize who they are. On a deep, soul-level, with our Bloodwalker magic.”

“What I felt the first time was Maryse,” I insist now, knowing why I trusted her when she told me to go to Unhaemmerten . “I never met my Bloodwalker Ancestor who created the Black Dragon, but why would someone impersonate her so thoroughly as to get me to break open that altar?”

“Someone either needed something inside the altar,” Strom says now as he processes, “or they wanted us to let the souls of the Black Dragon Five out and return the Black Dragon to its full power.”

“So everything they did, convincing Rikyava, was just to get the Black Dragon back to full power again?” Bjorn asks as he growls now. Balling his fist, he slams it into the green velvet settee as a furious Bloodwind rushes all around him. “And like fools, we fell for it!”

“Do not blame yourself or your mates, young drake.” Annika is stern as she eyeballs Bjorn. “From what your Bloodwalker says, those voices were so convincing as to trick her most formidable power into thinking they were trusted. A thing that should not be possible.”

“How can I ever contact the Void of Ancestors again, knowing any information I might receive from them might be lies? And never knowing if the person speaking to me is who they say they are?” I feel ill inside, as the one thing I was so certain of in my power feels like treachery.

A pause comes, as neither Jarl Jorg nor Annika have an answer. Annika’s old gaze dips to my chest now, where Aesa’s silver stone hums. It still bolsters me, even though I feel terrible at everything that’s been revealed.

Then something inside me rises, a sensation like a strong drakaina towering over me as she supports my back. She wraps a taloned hand around me, touching one white-gold talon to my chest, and her silver stone there.

It was all for a reason. Hold fast to that. I hear as Aesa whispers all through me.

Somehow, I know that it’s the truth.

“Aesa would not give her Truthstone to just anyone,” Annika says as she watches it. I glance down to see the silver gem swirl with gold and white runes, then flash with that ruby brilliance of Aesa’s red eyes, before it quiets.

“Aesa was the mother of our order, five thousand years ago.” Annika’s gaze meets mine now, an ancient understanding in them. “She was the founder of the original Black Dragon Knights and dedicated her life to bringing down the beast. She was also the sister of your very own Ancestor who created the Black Dragon, youngling; Aesa fashioned her Truthstone to not only always know the truth of things, but to bind her soul beyond death so she could lend her Truth to those in need. Going to her and enduring her Trials was once a secret only the real Black Dragon Knights knew, as we worked to prevent the demon from rising again in the world. Then, it became a Magnussen tradition, since her bones lay in the lake within their lands where the ancient battle that killed her happened. Never has she given her precious Truthstone to anyone who has sought her answers. That power lies within you, now… we must trust that she has given it to you for a reason. To always know the truth, deep inside. Perhaps because someone has been feeding you falsehoods.”

As Grandma Annika speaks, I feel Aesa’s Truthstone hum at my breast. That humming fills me, as I feel Annika’s words are correct. I don’t know how I know it; as an immense instinct devours me, that feeling growls with a flash of battle-brimstone red all through me.

It resonates with both my inner dragons now, making them feel indomitable as they roar in unison, then twist together into my Bloodwalker power suddenly. I’ve never felt anything like it, as I reach down and touch the silver stone.

Knowing it’s a far greater gift than I could ever understand.

“That’s how you knew how to help us pass the Trials.” I glance at Jarl Jorg. “You knew of Aesa and her Truthstone, deep beneath the lake, and it’s why the Magnussens who stood with Svanhild helped us against their Jarl…because they’re all part of your True Black Dragon Knights.”

“Yes.” Jarl Jorg nods. “I gave you the information I did because I could not in good conscience let you three perish in Jarl Oggi’s vendetta against his son, though some part of me still wondered whether you had invaded Unhaemmerten on purpose. When you three returned successful with such an unfair Trial, and with Aesa’s Truthstone shining upon your breast, I knew. I knew she had seen goodness in you—all of you. And that you had no reason to unleash the Black Dragon Five back to their creation.”

“But why would the souls of the Five return to their diabolical creation, if they were trying to stop it, at the end?” Bjorn asks, always a brain working inside him, though many wrongly assume he’s just brawn .

“Long ago, the Five bound their eternal souls into their creation, to power it and give it mind and flesh,” Jarl Jorg says seriously now. “The full tale has been lost to us; perhaps you will discover more when you can finally go through all the items you retrieved from the altar, but we know the Five bound a part of themselves into the beast to give it life. It was this part of their souls that undid them, as they finally battled the creature and lost to it. In the end, only Aesa was left standing, until she took the original Knights to fight the creature once and for all, at the valley where you had your Trial. She died, but the fierce battle was won through her sacrifice; the black creature was cast down, its bones moved to an ancient island sacred to the Bone Mages. Forever interred, and never again brought to life.”

“Someone awakened it; dug it up by powerful Bone Magic,” Strom says, watching his great-grandfather. “A group of someones, by the extent of the Bloodrune curse-work there, besides the nasty curses from the Black Dragon itself. Maryse was on their trail, and Bintha Lofta… before they were both silenced.”

“Yes.” Jarl Jorg nods as his gaze pins each of us. “Those two are a deep loss to us. Maryse was not ours, but Bintha was, working tirelessly within both the real Knights and the false Knights to keep the last few enclaves of Bone Mages, like ours, safe in the world. She was a brilliant light for our people, Strom. Now, the Knights will be relentless, coming after our kind as they learn about us.”

“They already know about me,” Strom says, his look dire. “I put you at risk, my Jarl, and our entire family, staying here right now.”

“Nonsense. We can and will protect you, against anything the false Knights throw at us.” Jarl Jorg scoffs as his green eyes glitter. Reaching out, he claps Strom on the shoulder, shaking him. “You three will remain here and investigate the treasures you have found. We all need to know about the original Black Dragon Five now, and how they worked the magic that created the creature. Perhaps there will be something in those histories than can help us. Even though the magic in their items is long dead.”

“We’ll do our best,” Bjorn says firmly, as he nods. “We’ll get started tonight, to figure out what those scrolls and arcane writings mean.”

“Rest! Live a little.” Jarl Jorg laughs now as he finally rises. “You three have been through a lifetime’s worth of insanity these past few weeks. Enjoy peace when you can find it; remain here at the palace, protected, and recover. I will check in with you in a week to find out if you have discovered anything in the altar’s annals that might help us. In the meantime, the True Knights shall monitor for any appearance of the Black Dragon, though it seems to have vanished after decimating Jurggadden. Clearly, whomever is wielding it to their agenda does not have a second target yet, else they would have already attacked it.”

“Or the Black Dragon has already regained its own will and mind,” I say, as an ominous sensation fills me. “And is only waiting for the right time to strike.”

A pause engulfs us now, before Grandma Annika speaks.

“Though the souls that once powered the Black Dragon have been released from their tomb, I do not think they have found their way home to the creature quite yet.” A deep knowing fills her green gaze. “From the legends, we know the Black Dragon became a being of unimaginable destruction once it finally struck down the last member of the Five who had created it, and devoured their souls entire. It was controlled by no one then, and rampaged without pause across Blood Dragondom, ruining everything in its path. It had no agenda, only destruction…”

“So the souls of the Five may not have returned to it yet, because we’re not seeing it rampage like that?” I blink, hoping with everything inside me that Annika is right. She nods, and I inhale, feeling Aesa’s stone hum. I look at Bjorn and Strom. “So we may have some time, then. Something must be holding those souls back from returning to the creature yet, but we need to hit the books and find out what.”

“Time to head back up to my rooms and work.” Strom gives a sad chuckle as he rises. We all do, and Strom embraces his great-grandfather. “Thanks for not killing me… and for giving me and my mates the benefit of the doubt.”

“You know I always will,” Jarl Jorg says with affection now as he sets his forehead to Strom’s, shaking his shoulders. “You have a good heart, youngling, though I know you hide secrets deep inside. Hopefully, your new mates will help you with those, and absolve the self-wrath I feel churning in you. Until then, love them, and know that I approve of this new mateship for you. Even though it is with a Bloodwalker… which may expose you and many in our family line as Bone Mages. Something we have long avoided, but which I suppose is inevitable now.”

“We’ll bring the Black Dragon down.” I face Strom’s great-grandfather. “We will protect the Bone Mages who need protecting, bringing the renegade ones to justice. And correct the wrongs of the false Black Dragon Knights in the process.”

“Strong words.” The Jarl nods as his ancient gaze peruses me. “I hope for all our sakes that you can do what you say you can, and more. We’re going to need that in the coming days and weeks. Else, I fear we all may perish, and the entirety of Blood Dragondom along with us.”

With those dire words, the Eriksson Jarl opens the drawing room doors. He ushers us out, not into the family dining hall, but into a side hall where we can retreat up to Strom’s rooms without being accosted by the rest of his family.

“Go. Rest. When you’re ready, investigate what you have found. I shall be waiting.” Jarl Jorg gives a hard smile now, though it is also kind. As Strom embraces his little sister Mathilde, whose eyes have gone wider and wider at our conversation, then his grandmother Annika, we depart. A heavy weight settles in me as we walk back through the halls and up the long, corkscrewing staircase back to Strom’s tower apartment.

Though something else inside me finally feels light.

I can’t explain it, but it feels good to have the whole story of the Black Dragon Knights and why they were created, not to mention what went down during the creature’s ancient rampage. At last, we have the full story of what happened back then, not just a part of it.

That thought bolsters me now as we return to Strom’s vast apartments with all their shelves of glass and chrome shining around the vaulted white stone and silberskrae walls.

The altar’s contents are stashed straight ahead, under one of Strom’s strongest warded vaults. We make our way to it now, lit tastefully beneath chrome spotlights in the midnight hour.

The early night has gone as we talked with the Eriksson clan and their Jarl. Now, a deep midnight breathes all around us, as we stare at the hodgepodge of items we rescued from that altar.

They sit before us, just as mysterious now as they were then. Though all are magically dead, it doesn’t mean something of vast importance doesn’t lie within the stories they could tell us.

Tales we must discover now, if we’re to beat the Black Dragon.

And put it down, at last.