Blood of Dragons: Book 1
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Epic Fantasy, Novel
Gryphon’s Gate Publishing, June 2018
They possess the blood of dragons, but can they stop this ancient threat?
Jais, an orphan raised by his aunt and uncle on the fringes of society, is torn between a normal life and dreams of adventure. His heart is set on courting Alnia, the beautiful miller’s daughter, and with increased attacks from krolls, brutal misshapen beasts, he sees a chance to prove himself. His aunt warns him not to pursue the girl, nor seek the krolls, but someone must protect their village, and this is his chance to win Alnia’s heart.
Outcast from everything she knows, Caerwyn seeks to find other dragon-blooded like her. But, even as she finds Jais, she learns of the kroll threat and feels compelled to help. Now, she has to teach Jais what he is, while fighting for her life. Yet the more she finds out about these krolls, the more she feels that something is deeply wrong.
Something far more sinister is at work, but can they uncover the real threat before they, and the village, are torn apart?
Chapter 1
It was high summer, and yesterday Beremus — the weeklong Feast of Berem, god of celebrations, drink, and dreams — had begun.
The common room of the Ox and Axe was crammed with boisterous revelers toasting the festive god. The three serving girls had their hands full with the large and rowdy crowd, yet they still managed to slide through the throng with ease, as well as somehow understand the shouted requests thrown at them. The three large hearths were all roaring, roasting ox and venison and stewing root vegetables in a thick gravy. The scent of the food was nearly overwhelmed, however, by the stench of sweat from the mass of people, even with all of the windows thrown open to let in light and whatever meager breeze might dispel the oppressive heat within the single room. Overall, it was an assault on the senses.
Jais was glad to leave the noise and heat of the common room and step outdoors once again. His family’s small wagon sat just outside the rear door of the Ox and Axe laden with fresh stag: cleaned, skinned, and ready for cooking. His uncle’s hunting would help to feed the village today, and Jais had one carcass left to deliver.
He hefted it from the wagon bed and reentered the tavern to hand it over to the beefy tavern keeper, a man named Rolm. Rolm accepted the meat and handed Jais the full payment for the load, two silver coins, allowing him to escape the inn for good this time. The tavern keeper would easily make that money back by the end of the day, but it wasn’t an unfair price. The exchange had been worked out long ago by Rolm and Jais’ uncle. Which was good because Jais didn’t want to stick around. Having lived secluded from the rest of the village most of his life, he wasn’t fond of large crowds. He didn’t mind the people so much as the noise and close quarters. It wasn’t how he preferred to meet with others. So he was halfway to freedom when a large form staggered over toward him shouting his name.
“Jais! There you are. Stay and help me win a bet.” Ale-infused breath washed over him as Erid, a large young man, grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Not today, Erid,” Jais said pulling away. He turned and was nearly out the door when another voice stopped him.
“Oh, Jais, you have to prove him wrong. He’s a big lout, and he knows he can’t beat you. He keeps saying he can finally best you at grip-wrestling.” The voice was one he knew well, Alnia, the miller’s daughter. His heart constricted in a very familiar way as it did every time he talked to her. He turned back and couldn’t help but smile when he saw her. She was flushed with drink, like everyone else, but on her it only served to accentuate her beauty. Auburn hair tumbled in waves to frame a round-cheeked face with sparkling green eyes and full lips, and the dress she wore had a tie around her torso under her bosom, accentuating the curves. Jais’ heart quickened.
He would stay for her. Just long enough to prove Erid wrong. Then he’d return home to his chores.
“Of course I will,” he said and joined them, pressing through the crowd to their table.
The village of Klasten’s Green was not large, and there were only a handful of others around Jais’ age. They were all crowded around one small table. Ulf, a farmer’s son and the youngest of their troop. Kina and Lisa, sisters, only a couple years apart in age and daughters of the single merchant in town. Danz, Alnia’s older brother who stood to inherit the mill in a few years. Hansa and Rom, sister and brother and farmers as well, then Erid, the smith’s son, and of course, Alnia and himself.
Yana and Esrine were present as well, two of the three tavern keeper’s daughters, but they were far too busy to join the group today, and most other days as well.
Erid pushed Danz out of a chair and sat, putting his elbow on the table, hand raised. Jais sat opposite him and did the same with his arm, clasping the other man’s sweaty palm. Grip-wrestling was not a new activity for him and Erid, and it was far better than the brawling they’d done as kids. Erid was the largest boy in town standing a full head and shoulders above Jais and built thick and strong from hours a day in the smithy. Jais was not a tall man, but as broad as Erid across the shoulders just on a more compact frame, and he’d always been stronger.
Alnia called out, “Begin!” and the two began to struggle against each other, trying to push the other’s hand down to the table. Erid had grown stronger with each passing year, but still Jais knew how this fight was going to end. Already their arms were tilting in Jais’ favor, and with a little more effort he finished the contest, touching Erid’s knuckles to the wood.
Erid huffed, red in the face, open-mouthed, eyes alight with a kindling rage. The man had always had a short temper. It was one of the reasons Jais wasn’t fond of him.
He thought to try to diminish the man’s anger with some advice. “Don’t drink so much next time,” Jais said. “It only weakens you.”
Erid shot to his feet. “How can you best me every time? No one else in the village, not even my father, can beat me!” Spittle flew from the young man’s lips. There was murder in his eyes. He wasn’t accustomed to losing… to anyone else.
Well, his attempt at advice hadn’t done much.
Jais stood, relaxed and composed, ready for a fight, knowing he’d beaten Erid, in every encounter for the last eight years. “I’m leaving. If you want me to put you on your back outdoors, join me.” He shrugged. “I work as hard as you, and I don’t drink half as much. Maybe that’s why.”
Erid sputtered and fumed, but didn’t approach or follow Jais as he left. These grip-wrestling matches had been their sole contest ever since the third time Jais had laid Erid down in a brawl. The other man knew he wouldn’t win. Jais was quicker and stronger, at least now he was, but he’d taken a fair share of beatings as a boy before he’d gotten to that stage.
He was out at his wagon when he heard the steps behind him. He turned expecting Erid, but found Alnia instead. She ran to him, a great grin on her face. Throwing herself into his embrace, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her ale-soaked lips finding his. The rest of her body pressed against him as well, stunning him. This was the most forward she’d ever been. Usually she was much more reserved. Perhaps the ale had incited this.
She dropped away from her tiptoes and stepped back. Her eyes were gleaming, a surprised grin on her face. Perhaps the act had shocked even her. After a moment, she pursed her lips, seeming uncertain. Then she spoke softly, “Erid will cool down eventually. He knows he can’t beat you. He just can’t stop himself from trying.”
Jais nodded, uncertain what to say and a little caught up in the previous moment.
“Will you be back to town soon?” she asked with a bite of her bottom lip. “Tonight? For… the revels?”
The revels…
There would be a big bonfire in the village square, and all of the unmarried men and women in the small village would show up to dally and explore their options.
A part of Jais wanted to return, a large part, but he knew his aunt and uncle would not approve.
“I’ll see if I can slip away,” he said and meant it.
“Good.” Her grin widened as she bobbed on her feet then turned and ran back into the tavern.
Jais caught his breath, swallowed hard, and hoped, by all the graces of Asavi, he’d be with Alnia tonight.
* * *
Jais guided the small wagon up into the hills, away from Klasten’s Green. His home wasn’t so much on the edge of the village as well away from it.
Aunt Sarelle always said their distance from the village was for two good reasons. The first was to be closer to the forest, which provided their livelihood. The second was that they were not truly accepted in the village. This was due to aunt Sarelle being a healer, a very good one, perhaps too good. Her work was looked at with an awkward mix of fear and gratitude. The villagers liked having someone who could treat wounds and diseases, especially as effectively as she did, but they still thought it too close to magic for their liking. It didn’t help that the woman was almost fifty years old but didn’t look a day past thirty, still in the bloom of life and beauty. They tolerated her because of her ability, as much as they feared her for the same reason.
As a child, Jais hadn’t liked being so far away from any potential playmates. He’d snuck away now and then to find friends, but that had had mixed results. Yes, he’d found friends: Alnia, Kina & Lisa, Hansa and Rom. But he’d also found… rivals. Ulf, Danz, and Erid had had their own little group and didn’t much like him showing up. They’d teased him, called his aunt a witch, said she and his uncle did all manner of things with demons out in the woods. That had led to fights. He didn’t win at first, but he’d learned quickly what worked and what didn’t. By the time he was twelve he could knock down all three of those boys. At first they teased him about that too — from a distance — but a few more bruises and the boys eventually dropped their taunts. By the time he was fifteen, they were all — some more than others — friends, the fights dismissed as childish tomfoolery.
The cabin he shared with his aunt and uncle was on the highest of a series of hills to the east of the village, next to a vast forest. The trail from the village up to his home followed a burbling stream, which ran out of the forest near their cabin.
As he crested the last of those hills and his home came in sight, Jais stopped the wagon and looked back. The only sound was the nearby brook and the wash of wind in the long grasses. He could see the village nestled on the plains below and another set of hills rolling off to the south-west. To the north and west the land stretched away, mostly flat, dotted with farms. The Eresvan River, wide and flat, curved around the western side of the village. It ran out of the mountains to the north — fed by several tributaries, like the stream he stood next to — past Klasten’s Green, and south to the capital of their small kingdom, Erestin. From there the river emptied into some distant sea, the name of which Jais didn’t know.
He sighed.
There was so much of this world he knew nothing about. His aunt and uncle occasionally talked of faraway places. They’d traveled a lot in their youth before… before his parents had died and he’d come to be with them. Not long after that, they’d settled here, in the distant north, far from anything interesting. Erestin wasn’t even a large or important kingdom from what he’d gleaned, overhearing his foster parent’s conversations. It was a small, quiet land in the vast northern expanse, one of several small northern kingdoms or city-states.
His gaze drifted back to the village.
His hope to be back after the sun had set grew stronger. He’d been fond of Alnia for years now. She was the prettiest girl in town, at least in his opinion. She could marry any man she wanted. These last few years she’d flirted with him a little, but today she’d been so… open. He had to meet up with her tonight, but his aunt would most likely not allow it, and he hadn’t disobeyed her in years. But tonight…
With another sigh he turned and urged the small shaggy-haired mountain pony onward to the only home he’d ever known.
The cabin was a single room with a hearth on either end. One side held a table with wooden chairs and a work area which served as the main living area of the house. This hearth was mainly used for cooking. Shelves covered the walls with everything they would need for a season. The other side had two beds, a larger one for his aunt and uncle and a smaller one for him. The hearth at that end was lit mainly in the evenings or when it was cold outside, to keep them warm as they slept. His aunt had put in a curtain between the beds, made of old patchwork blankets, supposedly for privacy, but it did little. Outside the cabin stood another building attached to the back of the house, half of which served as a stable for their single pony and the other half a smokehouse where his uncle cured and dried meat for storage over the winter.
Jais stabled the pony which they’d affectionately named Stout, giving him some grain and brushing him down. He’d left the wagon out in the open beside the house, since there was little concern for thieves out this far from the village, and started to unload the barrels of salt he’d purchased with some of the earnings from the venison, rolling them to the smokehouse for storage before he went inside.
The sun was waning, falling toward the western hills as he finished storing the salt barrels and came indoors to the dim, candle-and-fire-lit cabin. His aunt was there. His uncle was not, probably still out hunting. Jais tossed the remainder of the coins from his excursion into a wooden bowl near the door, and they clanked on the other silvers and copper already there. He sat at the table as his aunt prepared a meal, hoping that perhaps this once, she might let him go to the High Summer Revels, but uncertain if he should ask or simply try to sneak out.
“How was the trip? Were you able to pick up salt?” his aunt asked as she chopped parsnips into chunks. Because of their distance from ‘the rest of the world’ their local merchant had to make long trips to bring back even the most basic of items. Salt was in high demand and not always available, but because of their need to preserve meat, they needed large amounts of it.
“Yes, three barrels, but it used up nearly all of the two nobles Rolm gave me. The price is going up it seems.”
She sighed. “We’ll have enough to get through the winter, that’s the main thing. If we can’t preserve more for the rest of the village, that will limit our winter’s income, but we’ll survive.”
He nodded.
She stopped her chopping and looked at him. He wasn’t looking directly at her, staring as he was at the table, lost in his thoughts, but he could sense that her gaze was intent.
“What’s troubling you?”
He grimaced. He should have known. She had a way of seeing into his thoughts. Though if he was honest, it wasn’t a surprise as he too always seemed to know what others were feeling.
“I’d like to go…” He sighed. “Alnia asked me to go to the revels tonight.”
“The miller’s girl?”
“Yes.”
“She is pretty. She’ll make a fine wife for some young man.” And with that Jais’ hopes fell. He knew that tone. He could almost speak her next words before she said them, “But not for you. You will stay away from the revels.” The tone wasn’t harsh or commanding, it was calm and certain, almost sad.
Even as his next thoughts bloomed, she said with a slightly more stern tone, “And I’ll know if you try to sneak out. I always do, don’t I?”
She did. It was infuriating.
He gritted his teeth, knowing better than to ask why he couldn’t go. The response, as it always was, would be a vague reminder that they were somehow different from everyone else down in the village.
The door opened. Jais heard his uncle’s gruff voice behind him. “More kroll tracks through the forest. I’m thinking there’ll be another attack soon, perhaps tonight.”
Jais spun in his chair. “We should warn the village!”
His uncle nodded, shaggy hair and unkempt beard crowding his face. “Run down as quick as you can. Perhaps they’ll call off the revels. We don’t need that nonsense anyway.”
Jais was up in a flash. “I will.” He bolted around his uncle and out the door.
Even as he ran he heard his uncle shouting behind him, “Hurry back. I’ve got two bucks here to clean and skin, and there’s still wood to chop.”
Jais wasn’t the fastest man in the village, but could run for miles before tiring, his strong, sturdy legs made for endurance, if not speed. So he was only a little winded when he burst through the door of the tavern. The drunken crowd was still here, despite the sun being well on its way to the western horizon.
He shouted as loud as he could, trying to make his voice boom over the cacophony of the crowd.
“Krolls near the village!”
It took him three times before the crowd fell silent. When they did a dread hush fell over the entire common room. Jais felt compelled to say more.
“My uncle found tracks in the forest. He thinks there may be an attack soon, maybe tonight.”
A large man easily pushed his way forward. Jais grimaced. The man was Damick the smith, Erid’s father, and he was the same size as his son with a similar temperament.
“Has he seen the beasts themselves or just tracks?”
“Just tracks, but—”
“Then how can he be so certain there’ll be an attack today? Maybe they were heading up to Ostin Vale or down to Eresford.” There were grumbles around the room. No one wanted to leave their celebration to risk fighting one of the beasts. It didn’t help that Damick was the head of the town’s militia and should have been the one marshalling them.
“Are you willing to take that risk? Are you willing to put all of your families, your children, at risk?” Jais’ tone was hard. He knew these people toiled for long hours during the year and deserved a celebration, but they were also always afraid of a fight. He should have brought his bow or an axe with him, then he could have seen if they would follow him. But he knew the answer to that clear enough. He was the ‘strange-healer-woman’s boy,’ and there were few in this town who seemed to see past that.
No one moved or spoke. No one stepped forward.
“Fine,” he said disgusted. “If you all want to have a great party and die when an attack comes, that’s your choice.” He threw the door to the tavern closed and stalked off.
He was half-way to the edge of the village down the main road when he heard soft, running footfalls behind him. “Jais, wait.” It was Alnia.
For her, probably only for her, he’d stop. He tried to suppress his bitter brooding.
“They’re just scared,” she said as she reached him, a hand on his back. “I don’t know how you can be so fearless. You’re out there on your own.”
“We wouldn’t be if this town—” He bit off the rest of his harsh words. He hadn’t turned to her yet. He didn’t want her to see his anger.
“They’re fools to not see how helpful your aunt is. How… strong… you are.” Her breath was warm on the back of his neck. He felt her expectant hesitation.
When he turned to her, she was biting her lip, still flushed with drink, and breathing a little hard from her run, or perhaps for other reasons.
“How certain is your uncle?” The voice from behind Alnia startled him, and he drew his eyes away from her to the speaker. It was Samuar Miller, Alnia’s father.
“Of seeing tracks? He’d never mistake such a thing. There’s nothing in the forest like a kroll. He didn’t say exactly where they were heading, but he seemed fairly certain there would be an attack soon.”
The miller grimaced. He too was rosy-cheeked with drink, but he seemed to be keeping a level head. After a moment, he nodded. “I’ll make sure we have some men on watch tonight, and—” His gaze flicked from Jais to his daughter with a faint smile. “I’ll cancel the revels. There will be many other nights for such things.” As the miller he was an influential man in the town and would be able to sway the others.
Good.
“Thank you.” He need not have thanked the man, he was doing nothing for Jais directly, but he had listened and that was a lot.
“Now come along ‘Nia,” Samuar said gruffly.
“I’ll be along in a moment, father.”
The man grunted, dissatisfied, and threw a stern look at Jais before leaving. The message was clear: ‘she’s not for you’.
As soon as her father’s back was turned, Alnia was next to Jais again, her lips on his, this kiss much longer and deeper than the last. By the time they separated even Jais was feeling flushed and a little drunk.
Alnia whispered, close to his ear, “I hope that will last you until the revels, whenever they’ll be.” Then she was off after her father, and Jais was left standing in the street a little overwhelmed.
* * *
The sun had set by the time he’d returned to the cabin near the woods, but there would still be light for a while, and he still had chores to do. His uncle was nearly done with the cleaning and skinning of his catch so Jais went to work on the wood. He could split a log with a single blow, and it didn’t take him long to finish. Every few days he or his uncle would fell a tree and chop it up in segments, smaller and smaller until it was adequately sized for their hearths. This was the last of a tree felled several days ago.
By the time Jais had stacked the wood near the house, it was near dark. Hot and sweating, he removed his clothes for a quick, cold, dip in the brook, cleaning himself and his sodden clothes before he went in for dinner.
As he entered he heard his uncle saying, “—far too often. This is the fourth time in three weeks the krolls have come around. I don’t think these are isolated events.”
“I thought krolls were solitary creatures,” Jais said. “I didn’t think they hunted in groups.”
His uncle shrugged as he chewed a mouthful of stew.
Jais sat at the table, accepted a steaming bowl from his aunt, and began eating.
“No one knows much of the beasts, other than that they’re stronger than a bear and only seem out to kill and destroy. As much as they might have the rough form of a man, they are little more than animals, and savage ones at that.” His uncle took another bite of stew. “No one knows why they do what they do, and every time someone has tried to communicate with them it’s gone… badly.”
That was the extent of what Jais knew as well. There had been three previous attacks recently with each escalating in aggression. The first time they had only raided a farmer’s barn and taken the livestock. The second time they had hit an outlying farm and the family there had been taken. The third time a farmer had seen them coming and tried to flee. In his haste, he’d lit his barn on fire by accident. The beasts had stayed away from the blaze, allowing the farmer and his family to escape. Everyone in the village thought they were safe, that the attacks wouldn’t get closer or wouldn’t come to them specifically, but it sure seemed like these beasts were intent on something in this village.
“Should we hunt them?” Jais asked.
His uncle nearly choked on his stew. He shot a glance toward his wife. Something significant passed between them that Jais couldn’t decipher.
Aunt Sarelle sighed, and his uncle turned to him. “You’ve never seen a kroll, so let me enlighten you. The short ones are eight feet tall, and they have more muscles on them than you and that smith boy combined. Their skin is as tough as hardened leather armor, and they carry clubs, which might as well be small trees. They’re not smart, but they’re cunning, like a wolf. They know how to hunt like any predator. You can track them easily enough, but they’ll smell you coming a mile off and be ready when you get there. I doubt our arrows would do much more than annoy them. You’d need to fill one so full of arrows it looked like a porcupine to slow it down. You can fight one, if you have to, if your life is on the line, but no sane man would go looking for that sort of trouble.”
“Have you ever fought one?” Jais was hanging on every word, morbidly fascinated.
“Gods no! But I’ve seen one being fought once. Three knights on horseback had one surrounded. They had lances, swords, and shields and were covered in heavy armor. They killed it, but only one of them survived.”
“That’s not true,” his aunt said softly. Jais looked over at her. “One was as close to death as I’ve ever seen a man, but I healed him. He lived, even if he was missing an arm.”
His uncle grumbled. “I was trying to scare some sense into the boy.”
“I think he gets the point,” his aunt said. “Don’t you Jaistheric?” She’d used his full name. This was obviously serious.
He nodded.
There was little other discussion of such things for the remainder of the meal.
When Jais went to bed that night his thoughts were crowded and too busy for him to fall asleep quickly. Part of him was caught up, lingering in that blissful moment when Alnia had kissed him, and thinking of the… pleasant things that might happen if he did make it out to the next revels. The rest of his mind was a dark mystery of lumbering shapes, with tree trunks for clubs, fighting knights. He wondered if he might be able to hunt one or even fight one. He was the strongest man in the village. How terrible could these things be?