STONE DRAGON: A Prison Moon Series Romance Novel Read online

  “She lies, my lord. You are ever wise. Throw her into the pit. This female knows the terrors of incarceration from her past traumas on Earth. She fears small spaces above all things.” And there, it will be so much easier to engineer your accidental demise if you do not cooperate, dear Claudia.

  Othrid took a moment to consider. With a curt flick of his meaty fingers, he motioned his minions forward.

  The bulkier wyvern stretched his lips in a grimace of a smile, exposing razor-sharp teeth dripping with slimy saliva-strings. Dipping to one knee, he wrenched the stake from the ground and wound the chain tight around his fist.

  “Dragons you say?” The wyvern’s throaty voice dripped venom onto her skin.

  “The dragons are dead.” Claudia turned her face from his rank breath, raising her palms in surrender. Get out of this in one piece and plan her moves. Runes, protective wards, could be overcome with effort, but she had a horrible feeling that this time, Serllia meant to seal her in for all eternity.

  The wyvern pulled deliberately on the chain, forcing her into a hop to keep upright. “My lord, if this female has power over dragons, then she will make fine bait. Bid her summon them, and you will present the Corporation with the ultimate spectacle.”

  “You wish to bring dragons into my camp?” Othrid scrunched his wrinkled forehead, studying the hovering camera. “And what will the Corporation give me for a dragon, eh?”

  The camera remained silent, the operator waiting for more than an empty boast before making an offer. Serllia sidled up to Othrid, pressing her lean length to the wide body running to seed now that he commanded wyverns to do his grunt work. It was they who caught the Earth woman in the Chase, beamed to viewers sector wide. They who handed her over to their lord, who swaggered back to camp, taking full credit for the capture. None here dared naysay him. Serllia’s fingers slid over his mouth.

  “Say nothing more, my lord. Bait the trap with this female, and I will tame the dragon with spells and wards so potent, he will be but a Ketata in your hands.” Rising onto the tips of her sandaled feet, Serllia whispered close to his ear.

  “I will lock the dragon’s will and sell the key to the Corporation for a price you name.” She followed with a lingering kiss to Othrid’s lips, one hand straying to his crotch. For a long moment, they remained locked at the mouth, the only sound Othrid’s slobbering grunts and groans.

  Claudia’s stomach heaved. Only she saw the energy and Othrid’s strength of will streaming from his mouth into Serllia. Stupid male, so that’s how she controls him.

  They broke apart. Serllia wiped Othrid’s wet lips with her fingers and pushed them into her mouth, taking every available drop of his essence.

  “She’s lying, my lord. You can keep me in the pit until I rot. But no dragons will come for me.”

  And if they do, Serllia, they have powers even you can’t tame.

  “You dare say that to me, your master? We will put it to the test. Take her.”

  The wyverns paused, held back by a surging wave of reluctance and fear. One poked her with his stick, hesitant as the warlord to make contact. At her full strength, and with them so wary of her, a mind jump might have worked. She’d have had them both confused and bowing to her will. But why waste precious energy when it would only lead to stronger chains and a deeper pit?

  Oh hell, the pit. Claudia took in a careful breath, masking the welling panic. Memories of another abduction, back on Earth, when she was kidnapped and held in a tiny room threatened to overwhelm her. Calm on the outside, but no way to hide her fear of small spaces from Serllia. The old witch gleaned that little detail early on and used it mercilessly against her.

  “Move.” The second wyvern jammed his baton into her back and shoved hard, sending Claudia staggering forward. Othrid watched impassively, fingers curled into fists.

  Above them, the sky flashed white, colouring the tents and lodges with a stark light. Serllia’s doing, or maybe only the lingering spring storms that blew in and out with ferocious might. The seer stood with her lord, watching the wyverns drag her rival away past slaves pounding roots in clay pots, and others weaving rough cloth by stretching spun threads over wooden looms. The familiar thud and squish of the wooden mallets pushing into the fired earth pots, the squeak of threads being teased and combed, followed Claudia across the camp.

  Othrid’s second-in-command, a green-skinned Arken like his master, ground a curved blade over a screeching whetstone and watched her progress.

  Claudia saw the challenge brooding in the creature’s eyes. Felt the growing contempt for the current warlord whose power had softened, not hardened him in the three seasons since he killed the last leader.

  Veton’s gaze burned her. He exchanged a brief, inexplicable glance with Serllia. His rule would make Othrid’s look like a teddy bear’s picnic.

  A few pitying glances came her way as the wyvern poked and prodded her to the pits reserved for the most dangerous of Othrid’s adversaries. Others looked on in contempt. The rest kept their pity deep inside and ignored her plight.

  Just another day in Othrid’s camp.

  Weaving through the lodges, she lost sight of the warlord and his mystic, her thoughts on the dreaded pits where Othrid kept his prisoners. Hefty wooden grids covered the square holes dug deeper than twice a tall male’s height and lined with slippery topestia-bark planks against anyone intent on scaling the hard-packed soil banks.

  The wyvern kicked aside a grid and reeled her in to him, winding the chain around his fist until she was flush with his studded jerkin.

  “Me and you.” He growled his foul, hot breath onto her face. “We go under cover of dark. I fly you out and you find me a dragon. I fight and kill the creature and earn me a good reward.”

  “In your dreams, wyvern.”

  So there was more than one faction of dissent brewing in the camp? This wyvern meant to steal a dragon from under Othrid’s nose?

  “If Serllia says you command dragons, this is no dream.”

  Not half as sharp as Othrid, the wyverns saw only a small, Earth woman, easily overpowered by physical strength. This one made the mistake of staring deep into her eyes as if his intimidating glare might convince her. A pathway opened to his nasty little mind, and she was in.

  “Oh, but you’re right. I do command dragons. And wyverns, too.” Claudia pinned his dark-red gaze to hers. Like wading through brown sludge, she weaved through his thoughts and latched onto his will. “That’s right, keep looking into my eyes. Let go of the chain. Sit by that lodge and sleep. You need to sleep, wyvern. You worked hard, you earned your rest.”

  Sometimes she achieved true thrall. More often it was little more than a simple stage-hypnotism trick on susceptible subjects. The wyvern’s mouth stretched in a yawn, eyes dimming in confusion. He turned his head to the lodge wall, unfurling his claws from the chain.

  “I need to sleep?” He frowned, deepening the creases in his ridged forehead. Then his gaze darkened. “We are the wyvern. All powerful. Othrid should reward our true worth.”

  “Yes, but he treats you with contempt, instead.” Plant a little seed while inside his head. The more dissent in the camp, the better her chances of escape. “Now sleep. I’ll just be…” No!

  With a jolt, the thrall broke. Serllia stepped out from behind the nearest tent. Claudia cursed the intrusion, snapping the connection to the sleepy wyvern.

  “You stupid fool. Wake up.” Serllia’s shrill voice sliced through the air, snapping the wyvern from his daze. Hastily, he dipped for the chain, curling the links around his fist and shaking his head to shuck off the trance.

  “You little boka.” He loomed over Claudia catching her cheek with a stinging palm. She spun around, swaying at the edge of the pit where a ladder waited in place for the next victim. Claudia took the blow without protest, scrabbling on the crumbling dirt edge.

  Act the vanquished now, or he’d be back for satisfaction.

  “Climb down, Claudia. Unless you wish me to command the
wyvern to throw you in and risk breaking a limb?” Serllia sent the enraged wyvern a mocking smile. The beast-male side-stepped away from her waving rattle. “Believe me, child, he’s more than willing to smash your fragile little body to slivers after that trick.”

  No need. “You have me, for now.”

  Serllia’s eyes darkened. “Don’t mock me, human. Or you will never leave that pit.”

  Or you’ll never leave the pit? Now, why would the seer hint at escape when she wanted her rival dead? Claudia tested the air between them, searching for an insight. A small peek into the seer’s intentions. She saw only fire, but the motives were easy to guess.

  “So what do you propose? I find you a dragon, and you take the credit? Is that how this story ends?” Claudia sharpened her focus, picking out something wriggling across the pit’s dirt floor. She placed one foot on a rung, steeled herself and swung around, shaking fingers clamped to the ladder. The loose chain slithered over the edge into the void, dragging her down. “There are no dragons, Serllia. And even if they still existed, you won’t find them through me. I’ll die before I give you dragons.”

  “And I will be happy to watch. Descend.”

  “I’m going.” The hovering guard stood with one booted heel on the incarcerating grid. No protection from the elements, so prisoners often drowned when their pits flooded and pinned them between the rancid water and the wooden lid.

  A mercy to some. But she wanted to live. To find her dragon… No, stop! No dragons. There are no dragons.

  Sitting on the dirt floor of the dugout, staring at the rough walls, Claudia heard the slide of the wooden grid snapping into place above her. The chink of hammered metal locking her in. She shivered as the incantation of runes and wards falling from Serllia’s lips crawled down her spine. Serllia wasted no time adding the mystical locks and safeguards invisible to most mortal beings. Thin rain seeped from the only cloud in the sky, sitting right above her cage.

  A gift for you, little Claudia.

  “Fuck you.” Claudia pressed into the wall and rested her chin on her bent knees. Replenish and plan. She left Earth a healer and medium. Here, her powers had amplified a hundredfold, as if the journey to the stars twisted a dial and gave her superpowers. Powers she held in reserve because the hell Othrid was taking everything from her.

  Laughter drifted through into the pit. Serllia’s rune-painted face appeared at the grid, straggly hair trailing through the gaps.

  “Go,” she said to the guard. Claudia heard a murmured grumble, then scuffling feet on the packed dirt. After a suitable interval, Serllia made a long, low humming noise in her throat, and waved her rattle at the cloud. The rain stopped, and the puffy white misting the sky drifted away.

  “You dream of dragons, little one. You cannot deny that to me. I saw one in your head, though to your puny powers he is but a spark, a dying ember.”

  There are no dragons. There are no dragons.

  “Oh, but there are, little one. And you will to lead me to one.”

  “No.” The wriggling creature scrabbled at the slick wall and then turned to pin her with its piercing gaze. Like a fatter version of a snake. Were they dangerous? Poisonous? Claudia couldn’t remember.

  “No, it is not poisonous.” Serllia tilted her head, appraising the slithering creature. “But it has a bite nasty enough to keep you awake this night. Now, return your attention to our dragon.”

  “Our dragon? If you’re so sure there are dragons, why can’t you find them? Why do you need me?” The creature made another attempt at the vertical wall, this time succeeding in gaining a slithering purchase. Claudia kept it in sight until it made it to the top and disappeared through the grid. Damp wicked up from the dirt, soaking into her hide gown.

  A smaller orb used for recording daily life for the live feeds edged into view, hanging over Serllia’s shoulder. If this got interesting, the more sophisticated, square boxes would surely follow.

  “If it were that easy, I would be the queen of dragons. It needs to be awoken, and you, it seems, are the key to that. It speaks to you? Why?”

  “Because this place has made me crazy, and I’m obviously hallucinating it all.”

  Don’t give her anything. Claudia squeezed her eyes closed. Pictures tumbled through her mind. Find the fire. Find the dragon…

  “Legends say they need the touch of female kin or a mate to awaken them from sleep. But with the female dragons all dead, what hope remains for them?”

  “I can’t bring people back from the dead, let alone dragons. This is ridiculous, Serllia.”

  “You really do not know? With all your powers, you’ve never sensed it?” Serllia’s slick voice slid between the gaps in the grid, softly mesmerising, but with a hint of surprise she didn’t bother hiding.

  “What?” A tingle tiptoed across Claudia’s shoulders. The planks holding up the pit walls wavered. Claudia ground her fingers into the soil, seeking an anchor as the world tipped and blurred. A door opened in her mind. Behind it, a searing plume of fire that sucked the air from her lungs.

  “What did you put in my head?”

  “Nothing that was not already in place. You collected dragons as a child, arranged the trinkets on a shelf in your chamber. Dreamed of riding on a dragon’s back.”

  “What child hasn’t?” A face loomed in the fire raging behind the door in her mind, emerging angry and strong. The mouth moved in a silent plea.

  “From where do you get your powers, little Claudia?”

  “You’re telling me I’m related to dragons?” The mocking laugh died on Claudia’s lips. Oh Dio, that’s exactly what the old seer was telling her. “Serllia, you’re imagining things.”

  “This is no imagination. I sensed the fire calling the moment Othrid brought you to camp.” Serllia favoured the watching camera with a long, hard glare. “Do you realise what this is worth to the Corporation?”

  Oh yes, Claudia understood the value of a good performance. The interest she piqued with her small miracles of healing meant more rewards for Othrid. Kept her alive for another day.

  “I can guess,” she said. The door in her mind opened wider, showing her visions she’d seen only in dreams. Dreams that might well be genetic memories if Serllia spoke the truth.

  “Those dragon trinkets you kept as a child. Remember how you named them?”

  “I get it.” Claudia ground out the words, stunned by the revelation. Ke’tatis, Ro’mfel, Ari’tes—she remembered how easily the names and their stories came to her.

  “So, now we will talk. There’s more, Claudia.”

  “Isn’t there always?”

  “I believe I can show you why this dragon’s fire calls with such desperate fervour. No, it’s not that primping creature who blinds you with glamour. This is he…”

  Like walking on thin ice, Claudia’s thoughts slipped and slid until they surrendered to the images materialising like ghosts through fog in her brain.

  She knew the beauty of the dragon who begged and cajoled in dreams and portents, but nothing of these grey shards, floating in her mind like an exploded jigsaw puzzle against the dim light of a cave or a chamber. The shards danced and swirled, and then, as if obeying an invisible command, closed together, forming a huge, curved shape. The shape coalesced into the body of a spiny, long-necked beast in repose.

  She saw a sleeping dragon. No, not sleeping—the dragon was still as the grave. Claudia looked closer, shivering as water droplets dripped from the wooden grid. In the mystical dragon’s cave, dust motes caught stray pinpricks of blue light that glimmered along the spines cascading down the creature’s mounded back. Spines crafted by some master’s hand.

  A sculptor’s hand.

  Stone. The dragon was stone.

  A statue? Her dragon was nothing but a stone statue? Claudia blinked in shock. How could that be possible? She’d seen the living beauty of the beast.

  “You think that’s what I see? You’re blind, Serllia.”

  “This is no trick, Earth wo
man. He calls you from inside this stone shell. Listen and hear the truth of my words.”

  “I don’t believe you.” But even as she spoke, the image sharpened in Claudia’s mind, zooming in on the dragon’s eyes. Did the closed lids quiver in sleep? Was the muffled boom thudding off the cave walls a captured heart, beating deep inside that stone prison?

  Oh, Dio, was something alive in there?

  Pieces of the puzzle flew together at lightning speed, flashing out images of war and blood, of dying warriors morphing into dragon form for the last journey to their eternal rest.

  Only they did not rest. Out there on this prison moon, a fallen dragon cried out for justice, and Serllia now knew of his plight.

  The seer gave a snorting laugh. “I must tell you now that so great is this beast’s rage, he will kill and eat you the moment you set him free. You are not strong enough to stop that happening, but I—”

  “Don’t tell me. You’ll be my shield, and together we’ll sell him to the Corporation, split the proceeds, and skip off hand-in-hand into the sunset?”

  “Claudia, you stand to gain only your life from this. And that is if all goes well.” Serllia squatted over the grid with an audible groan. Much older than her outward appearance, the seer must spend half her energy on maintaining her youthful glamour to Othrid. With the warlord out of sight, she let go her guard and relaxed her shields.

  Over her shoulder, the orb blinked in a series of rapid lights.

  “Claudia, why do you think you still live? Let me tell you the legend of the stone dragons. When a high-born dragon lingers on the threshold of life, he is offered for the gods to decide whether he will live or die. Most pass over swiftly, their mortal bodies turning to monuments of stone that they may be remembered. Others though, are not so fortunate.”

  “They turn to stone before they die?”

  “Can you imagine the horror of being entombed alive? To listen and see. To retain the power of speech, but absent the ability to move your lips to plead for the finality of death. And still the gods will not take you?”