Sigurd relaxed and nodded his thanks. The Hidden stood close behind the Gypsies, prepared to transport the entire group at his command.

  "Silene." He addressed his mate in the most loving, compassionate voice he had. Her face was wet with the tears that poured from her eyes and he nuzzled her gently. She walked over to the egg and placed one hand on top, cooing and whispering to her unborn child. At last, she kissed the shell and returned to Sigurd's side.

  "I'm ready," she said, her voice strong and steady.

  The Hidden each placed a hand on two of the Gypsies' shoulders and the Gypsies in turn placed their hands on the egg. Both Hidden closed their eyes, turning their faces to the ceiling, and within moments the space around them began to shimmer. They disappeared slowly, as if covered by a fog.

  A knock at the door pulled them all from their trance and Roland answered. He spoke quietly to the person on the other side for a few moments before turning to the group with a grave face.

  "I have some distressing news, sir." The man's eyes strayed to Silene. "And ma'am. It seems that Aron's forces have overrun Emmen Way. Alys is dead."

  Silene broke into a sob and retreated to their bedroom, followed by Ylda. A single tear escaped from Sigurd's own eye as he sank to the floor. It was beginning.

  Battle of Black River

  The sun hid behind the clouds the morning Apoph escorted Aron to the plains of the Black River. They stood on the edge of the floodland, watching the sky lighten over Sigurd's castle. Apoph turned an eye to the man beside him, contemplating escape one last time. He shook his head imperceptibly. It was too late. Aron had used him. The man had stolen his followers, promising them more than Apoph could ever offer. The dragon's wealth was gone, burned away in an effort to push the dragon king to his limit. It had succeeded, but Apoph had lost. His dream of a dragon kingdom was gone, along with all hope for his own future. He clenched his jaw as the first dragon rose from the castle wall and he knelt, allowing his new master to ride to victory.

  ***

  The red king stood on the battlement watching the encroaching hoard inch across the floodplain toward his home. He could see his once-beloved brother leading the charge with his sworn enemy sitting high atop his back. Sigurd's heart seized and he swallowed the tears that threatened to flow.

  "Prepare the men," he instructed Roland through clenched teeth. After Roland put out the call, Sigurd turned to him. "I want you to ride with Silene today. I know she prefers to fight alone, but this is different. If things begin to go too badly, get her to the garden and send her with the Hidden."

  Roland frowned. "I'm not sure she'll listen to me, my lord. She will likely refuse to leave you on the field of battle."

  "I know, but you must try. She is my life."

  Roland nodded and retreated. He was quickly replaced by two dragons. One was a lighter shade of red than Sigurd, while the other was the bright blue of his mother. "Abadon, Aden, are your soldiers ready?"

  "Yes, sir." Abadon was echoed by Aden.

  "Good. Go form up. We fly when they reach Rechthard's Rock."

  As his sons descended, Sigurd looked out across the land once more. Rechthard's Rock was a massive stone that jutted out of the earth in the middle of the floodplain. It had been named for one of his ancestors centuries before and stood for peace among the dragons. Apoph's black form settled atop the rock, drawing a snarl from Sigurd's throat. The king tilted his head back and roared, the sound echoing out across the river and into the courtyard behind him where his own army gathered. The dragons and men echoed his cry as he rose into the air.

  "Today," he shouted to his soldiers below. "Today, that imposter marches on our home, the home of our ancestors. Today, we fight for our lives like never before. Today, we fight to the last!"

  At Roland's command, every single member of Sigurd's command surged upward and out of the castle, landing on the flatland in front of Aron's approaching army. He heard his enemy's shout and the mass of bodies behind the rock moved to meet them.

  The two armies met in the air and on the ground in a violent clash of metal and flesh. Screams rent the air as dragons ripped into each other with teeth and claws or used their innate abilities to rain chaos and death on those below.

  Sigurd bore down on his enemies, tearing them limb from limb and leaving a mass of bodies in his wake. He lost all sense of time, focusing only on destroying any living creature wearing Aron's black colors. The only thing that kept him from become a raging menace was the blue streak that stayed by his side throughout the battle. Silene did not leave him. No matter which way he turned, she was there with Roland wreaking havoc from her back.

  "Sir!" Roland's voice floated across the air to Sigurd during a very brief lull in combat. "Sir, we need to retreat."

  The dragon king looked around at the carnage on the field. His rage and hate melted into grief and pain. Red and white littered the ground and floated in the river while black still surged over what few of his soldiers remained. He opened his mouth to give the command when a black shape loomed in his peripheral vision. Apoph approached with Aron. The vile man wore a sneer of victory as he appraised the defeated king.

  Sigurd turned an eye to Roland and Silene. "There is no retreat for me." Then he bolted toward his brother, vengeance the only thing on his mind.

  ***

  Booming laughter echoed from Aron as he sat atop Apoph's shoulders. "Your brother is too stupid to realize he is beaten," shouted the man. "It is time he learned."

  Aron's heels jabbed into the black dragon's sides, drawing a growl from the creature. Apoph longed to throw him from his back, but the traitorous prince had already sealed his own fate and he knew it. There was no other choice. Sigurd would never forgive him for his actions, no matter if Aron was dead.

  The two dragons collided in a red and black mass, tearing into each other with a viciousness that could not be matched. Apoph grabbed for Sigurd's head, jabbing a claw into his eye. The red dragon screamed and pulled back momentarily. His eye socket bled furiously, black and empty.

  Apoph shook his hand, trying to free the slimy blob from his claws in disgust. A roar warned him of his brother's impending attack just in time for him turn and avoid being rammed in the side. The pair fought ferociously, inflicting deep wounds on each other, both knowing it was a fight to the death.

  Sigurd swung his wing around, attempting to knock Aron from Apoph's back. The black dragon dove, defending his rider as the man hacked at the red appendage with a sword. A crack echoed through the air, followed swiftly by a growl of pain. Sigurd was plummeting to the ground, spinning uncontrollably.

  Aron's gleeful cackle grated through Apoph's bones. The dragon turned away, despite the demands of his new king, unable to watch the end of his brother's last flight, and unwilling to admit his own defeat.

  Blood of the Dragon

  Conquered and enslaved, the dragons of Layr live in fear. Their allies are banished, declared outlaws and forced out of human society. With the birth of a rare dragon, descendant of the long-defeated dragon king, a young keeper in the dragon hatchery finds herself as the hatchling's protector. Enlisting the help of her best friend, a fire-throwing Gypsy, and an invisible being, she confronts a tyranny that has reigned for more than three centuries.

  Other Books By This Author

  Blood of the Dragon

  Winds from the North (Sequel to Blood of the Dragon)

  Vampire Assassin (Jane #1)

  New Blood (Jane #2)

  Blood & Tears (Jane #3)

  Redemption (Jane #4)

  Til Death (Jane #5)

  About the Author

  Samantha Warren is a fantasy and science fiction author who spends her days immersed in dragons, space ships, and vampires. With her pet dragon, Anethesis, she ventured to the ends of the universe, but the cost of space travel cut into her sock fetish fund, so she sold her ship and returned home. When she isn’t writing, she’s milking cows or trying to feed them Pop-Tarts. She spend
s a lot of time in her weed patch (aka: garden), watching any show featuring Gordon Ramsay, or posting random things on her blog.

  Interested in contacting Samantha?

  Email: [email protected]

  Twitter: @_SamanthaWarren

  Blog: https://www.samantha-warren.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSamanthaWarren

 
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