Deep in the night, I’m awakened by the sound of cracking branches. I sit up with a start and look into the darkness. The dying embers of the fire cast flickering shadows over the surrounding trees. I hear a grumble and a grown, and I shake the kings awake.
“What is it?” I say.
The kings come to awareness and sniffed the air as they stand and pull on their armor. I do the same, ready for whatever is coming.
“It’s the Org!” Trav says just before he swings his sword, pivoting around behind him. The sound of steel crashing against steel rings through the night air. I let out a cry as we are overrun by the enemy.
“We never should have slept in enemy territory,” Conyac say.
“We needed to sleep,” says Trav.
“Let’s stop bickering and just deal with these Orgs,” I shout.
We fight the horde of Orgs rushing towards us. Our swords fly, and our feet dance as we defend our position, but there are too many of them. We have to shift. I let out a loud growl and sheath my sword as I jump into the air in one fluid movement. I screech out my sonic blast, sending a wave of sound reverberating through the enemy army. They fall backwards onto the ground, their ears bleeding, dead. Trav and Conyac both jump into dragon form as the horde continues to pour forward towards us.
There are so many, I can’t even get an estimate of their numbers. They seem to just keep coming and coming. Even with our dragon strength and powers they are formidable. As I rise above the forest, I see millions upon millions of Orgs assembled on the vast plain. They march towards us with a single focus. They want to annihilate us. They won’t stop until the dragon monarchs are gone, and they are free to overrun Endor.
I can hear Trav’s voice inside my head, growling. He yells, “No!”
I roar. The kings dip down, using their dragon power on the ever-growing horde, but it seems to not make a dent. It’s as if they are springing out of the earth.
We fly swiftly towards the mountain. Fires flicker below illuminating the masses of bodies that crush forward, toward the settlements and villages of Endor.
This invasion must be stopped. I don’t know where it originates, or why the Orgs seek to conquer the land. It seems mindless and unguided. My thoughts transmit to the kings through our link, and they send me images and impressions of the invasions of the past, histories they’d learned of in their youth.
The dragon born females had been becoming less and less common all their lives, until there were none left. It was the curse of the Orgs. But the reason had been lost far in the past.
In the distance, I can see the black outline of the dark mountain against the pale light of the morning sky. My heart flutters with apprehension as we draw closer. The entire plain below is crowded with Orgs, and more seem to pour down the mountain as if a rushing torrent of water.
I hear the screams and shouts of the masses and a spear flies past my right eye. I swoop away, barely missing Conyac. A giant Org is below us, hefting a second spear. His aim is good. Too good. He throws his spear and it flies straight toward Trav.
Trav darts upward, out of the spear’s path, and dives toward the giant. He unleashes his dragon fire on the massive brute. We follow. Conyac blasts his ice breath on the Orgs around the burning giant, and I shriek my sonic boom. A swath of bodies fall before us, but they are replaced by more.
The crush of Orgs overwhelms even my stalwart dragon mind. There are just so many of them. Even with our dragon powers, we could never defeat this many. It would take months of continuous blasting to make a dent. In that time, they would surely break through and invade the lands to the north, brutalizing the people of Endor.
My heart sinks, and I feel we have already lost. Trav sends me a blast of motivation through our link, and I regain some of my strength. We come to the base of the dark mountain. Rivers of blood boil and slide down the face of the black rock. The smell of death and decay come in waves from the inner heat of the mountain.
Freshly made Orgs pour from a crack in the rock face, and we fly toward it. Landing above the womb of the mountain on a cliff ledge, we watch the activity below. Org after Org is born from the red sludge in pits dug into the rock.
Trav lets out a shrieking roar. Conyac and I answer with our own. Trav swoops down and burns the birthing pits and the helpers around the edges. Conyac and I let our powers blast over the blood and rock, annihilating every living thing in sight.
But the Org keep coming. It is a never ending stream of birth, coming from some endless supply of dark power. Conyac freezes the pits, halting the advance for one brief moment. When the Org army realizes what we have done, they advance back up the mountain, coming to take us down.
Trav stands at the entrance, burning the oncoming horde at the narrow opening in the rock face. I shift to my mortal form, looking around the birthing chamber for answers. Conyac shifts with me, and we give each other confused glances as we inspect our surroundings.
“What do we do now?” I ask him.
“I don’t know, my dear queen,” he says.
“Why is this happening?”
Trav has set a fire to the entrance that continues to burn, keeping the army at bay, for now. He shifts and joins us near the frozen birth pits.
“The legend says that an angry wizard cursed the dragon born long ago and created the Org as punishment. He planned to overtake the land with his army, but the dragon born always beat him back,” Trav says.
“What happened to the wizard?” I ask.
“No one knows. Some say the wizard became the mountain,” says Conyac.
“Why did he hate the dragon born so much?” I say.
“Power. He wanted the power of dragon born but could never have it. The curse of greed, I suppose,” Conyac says.
I feel overcome with a sense of despair and fall to my knees. What can I do now? All the fighting and death won’t help anything anymore. War begets war. Greed begets greed. If we continuously fight and kill, then we are no better than the Org or the dark wizard who set these events in motion. There must be another way.
A tear slides down my face, and I begin to sing. My voice rings out with such intensity as images of peace and beauty play through my mind. I superimpose images of war with images of peace and beauty.
I place my hands to the ground as the pictures play through my mind, and my song rises over the sound of angry shouts and war drums. The power of my song spreads out from my hands and voice. Below me, the rock face turns to a natural color. The black seeps away and the Org birthing pits are covered over with rock.
I continue to sing as Trav’s fire fades. At the entrance of the cavern, I see the Orgs outside transforming. They grow into trees and animals and birds. Grass spreads out and down the mountain. We step out of the cavern and begin to walk.
Singing with all my heart, the army of Orgs, one by one, change into something natural and beautiful. Nothing dies. It is reborn into the most ideal image of itself, contributing to the beauty of life.
Trav and Conyac shift, and I jump on Conyac’s back. We fly over the land as I sing. A green forest spreads over the barren plain. Behind me, the dark mountain has been transformed. It is no longer pitch black, but cast in blue with snowcapped peaks.
As we make our way home, every time we see a legion of Orgs, we stop and sing them into their healed form. All this time, the hate of the dark wizard had sucked the life from Endor and turned it into hate. My healing song has put the energy back into life.
As we approach Skyland, I see flower garlands on the parapets, welcoming us home. We touch down in the gardens, and the kings shift. My servants run out to greet us and ask what happened. Conyac tells Hammon and Gizmel the news, and I smile gleefully as I gaze up into the blue sky.
Out on the horizon, I can see a thunderclap and dark clouds roll in. The wind picks up and blows wildly through my hair. I feel electricity in the air and turn to grasp Trav’s hand.
“What is it?” I ask him.
“I don’t know, Dani,”
he responds.
“Look!” Conyac shouts, pointing toward the sky.
Clancy barks uncontrollably as the dark figure descends in a black cloud. He is tall like a dragon born and his eyes glow fiery red. As he lands, he sweeps his staff across the grass, causing it to blacken and die.
“What do you want?” I shout at him.
“You think you’ve won do you?” he asks. “This is not even close to over.”
Clancy lunges forward, and I grab his collar just in time before he crosses the dead patch in the grass. I shout to Hammon to take my dog inside, and I stretch into my full height, facing the dark wizard.
I open my mouth to sing with the kings at my side. My healing song regrows the grass and moves toward the dark wizard. He laughs viciously at my attempt. The healing stops short, just at his robe.
“You cannot change what is natural, Dani Storm. I should have known the Skylands hid you on Earth. I could have killed you long ago,” he sneers.
“Why isn’t my song working?” I ask the kings, grasping their hands as I face the wizard.
“He is evil. You can’t heal what is his nature. I’m sorry, my queen,” Trav says.
“I don’t accept that. There doesn’t have to be evil in the world.”
The wizard lunges forward as I begin to sing again. The kings shift and strike him. The fire and ice and song mingle in one blast of power, knocking the wizard backward. He screams and begins to shrivel, shrinking until all that is left is his robe and staff.
“What happened?” I ask.
“The combination of our power together defeated him,” Conyac says.
“Is he dead?”.
“I’m not sure pure evil can die. But we sent him away from this world, our world,” says Trav.
“Then we have won,” I say, taking both kings hands in mine. I kiss them on the cheeks. “Together we have cleansed the land. It is a new day.”
Epilogue
Four years later
We walk in the blooming gardens of Skyland and watch our twin daughters playing in the soft grass. I know one girl is Trav’s and the other is Conyac’s. They look just like their fathers. In the four years since we healed Endor, we haven’t see a single Org or any sign of the dark wizard.
I’ve come to be content with our life. The kings are more like brothers now than rivals, they have come to love each other as much as they love me. We rule the land with justice and peace. The Endorians love us as much as we love them.
The world has become fertile again, and crops grow abundantly across the land. We enjoy a great sense of freedom and pleasure the Endorians haven’t experienced since the dark wizard cursed the dragon born many generations ago.
I take Trav and Conyac’s hands as we watch our beautiful daughters play. Trav leans in to kiss my cheek. He’s become more patient and kind in the years since the end of the war. It makes my heart glad that he has found himself in fathering. He teaches the girls dancing and swordsmanship. I love to watch him with the girls.
Conyac teaches them writing and poetry as well as mathematics and philosophy. My little girls are as smart as they are beautiful. I am blessed.
Clancy comes bounding out of the castle, followed by Gizmel. The little wizard has been working on a portal back to Earth. He knows I miss my adopted home and want to go back. Someday, I hope to see it again.
Clancy jumps on my lap and licks my face affectionately. “My lady,” says Gizmel. “I think I’ve found the door.”
I stand. My world is complete, but the thought always lingers in the back of my mind. Do I want to go home?
“Really?” I ask, looking at my husbands.
“We could try it out if you’d like.”
I let out a long sigh and gaze at my daughters who are picking flowers in the well-tended gardens. “Maybe someday, Gizmel,” I say. “But not today.”
Bear His Love
Midnight Sun Shifters
In the wilds of Alaska, anything is possible. Even happily ever after.
A woman in need …
Ginger Allen has come to Alaska to scatter her father’s ashes--and follow a treasure map he drew for her on his deathbed. First, though, she has to hire an experienced backcountry guide to take her to her father’s remote property.
With a little help from Babs Bula, the stylish woman who just happens to be a matchmaker, she finds Brock Montgomery. He’s certainly well qualified--but the rugged outdoorsman is way too sexy for his own good. And her grieving heart isn’t ready for everything he makes her feel.
A reluctant man …
Brock is the new leader of the Montgomery Bear Clan. He’s ready to do the job, but the position comes with an unwelcome requirement: he needs to find a mate.
Then he meets Ginger, and knows the curvy, gorgeous woman is his. But Brock enjoys his independence. He’s not looking to settle down, no matter what his clan--and his bear--are telling him.
A dangerous journey …
Ginger's not the only one who knows about the treasure map … and greed and treachery are lying in wait in the hash wilderness. Will she and Brock survive? And if they do, will they finally surrender to the passion they’ve been fighting?
Chapter 1
Ginger Allen watched the colorful buildings of Juneau, Alaska come into view from the deck of the cruise ship. Even at this time of year, it was already colder up here than it had been in Seattle. She pulled her thin jacket more tightly around her body and shivered.
The boat pulled into the harbor, and the passengers lined up to disembark. Ginger had traveled up there on a day cruise ship used by tourists, but her reason for coming to Alaska was not for a vacation. She looked down at the new hole in her Converse sneakers and pulled a roll of duct tape out of her backpack. She hastily ripped a square of tape off the role and plastered it over the spot on the heel of her shoe that was coming unglued.
She got in line behind the rest, pulling her backpack up over her shoulders. Slowly, she meandered down the ramp and onto the wide sidewalks of Juneau’s harbor. It was a bright day with a cloudless blue sky overhead. People around her smiled, their eyes twinkling with excitement as they took in the adorable little city.
The chill had got into her bones and wouldn’t seem to go away, even with the warming temperature outside. Ginger had business to attend to--not the kind of business that made you feel warm and fuzzy. It was her last ditch effort to salvage the life that she wanted to believe she could have, a life that now seemed so very far away it was almost like a dream she’d had as a child.
She walked down the streets, lined with little shops and restaurants that smelled of fish and chips, her stomach grumbling. She held the business card of the man who overlooked the property taxes on her father’s remote piece of land. Before he got sick, her father liked to go up to Alaska from Seattle to spend time in his hunting cabin. Before he died, he told Ginger that he had left something there for her--something that could solve all of her problems. But she might not be able to claim it, if she couldn’t get an extension on the tax debt.
The wind picked up and blew Ginger’s red, kinky hair into her face. She brushed it back with both of her hands and tied it into a ponytail at the back of her neck. Inspecting the numbers on the doors of the buildings on the sidewalk, Ginger found the tax office from her business card.
She gripped the door handle and slowly walked inside. The reception area was warmer than it was outside, and she let out a sigh of relief as the heat tried to penetrate deep into her chilled bones. There was a woman behind the reception desk, and Ginger smiled at her, but she was more distracted by the bowl of candy sitting on the desk.
Inconspicuously as possible, she plucked a peppermint from the bowl, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth.
“I have an appointment with James Salvo,” she said, the peppermint knocking around against her teeth. “My name is Ginger Allen. I’m here to speak with Mr. Salvo about my late father’s property.”
“Yes of course,” the receptionist
said. “Have a seat right there, and I’ll let James know that you’re here.”
Ginger sat down at the reception desk and pulled her cheap flip phone out of her pocket. She didn’t have very many prepaid minutes left and could only make one or two more phone calls before she would no longer have a telephone. At least she’d made it to Alaska. If things didn’t work out as she had hoped, she would be stranded here with no way back to Seattle.
“Mr. Salvo will see you now,” the receptionist said.
Ginger walked around the reception desk and down the hallway to the office that said Mr. James Salvo, Property Tax Manager.”
She opened the door and found a thirty-something-year-old man with a black mustache that looked like it must be intended to be ironic. He wore a red turtleneck shirt and had his hair slicked back with some kind of oil. He looked up at Ginger and motioned for her to have a seat.
“Ms. Allen. I was just looking over your father’s file. It looks as if the taxes are due in seventy-two hours.”
“That’s the reason I came to speak with you today, I was hoping you could give me an extension on the debt. Maybe a week?”
“Unfortunately, there’s no way that I can offer further extension on this tax debt. If it isn’t paid in full in the next seventy-two hours, I’m afraid that this property is going to be auctioned off by the state.”
“All I need is one more week, tops. My father just passed away. Is in there anything that you can do?”
“No, there isn’t. This property has been delinquent for over a year. Not a penny has been paid on the debt, and now that your father has passed away, the state will no longer offer any extensions on the taxes. If you want to inherit this land you have to pay the debt, now.”
“But I can’t pay it today. What am I supposed to do?”
“However you intended to pay in a week, pay it today.”
“Okay,” Ginger said, rising from the chair. She knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere with this guy. She might as well start on Plan B right now, and not waste any further time with James Salvo. “I’ll be back with the money in less than seventy-two hours.”