Dragons and Mages: A Limited Edition Anthology Read online

  Dragons and Mages

  A Limited Edition Anthology

  Contents

  The Flame of Battle

  Air to the Court: A Winds of Change Dragon Shifter Story

  Matteo’s Beast

  Chasing the Dragon

  Sword Quest

  Dragonblood Part One

  Violet Haze

  Dragonsworn Guardian

  Tainted Ashes ~ Untold Tales: Cinderella

  Tales of Dunes and Dragons: A Luminous Lands Novella

  Embers of Shame

  Exile: The Silure Dragon

  Draco Magis: A Musimagium Story

  Eyes of Amber, Wings of Jade

  The Dragon You Know

  Believe

  Rise of Dragons: Age of Dragons Book 3.5

  Tainted

  Assassin’s Blade

  Thank You for Reading!

  More Great Boxed Sets…

  Dragons and Mages: A Limited Edition Anthology © 2020

  Cover by YOCLA Designs - Clarissa Yeo

  All rights reserved by the individual authors.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Titles and Authors in this Anthology

  The Flame of Battle

  By Melinda R. Cordell and Pauline Creeden

  Air to the Court

  By Margo Bond Collins

  Matteo’s Beast

  By Bokerah Brumley

  Chasing the Dragon

  By Jocelyn Dex

  Sword Quest

  By Amy Proebstel

  Dragonblood Part One

  By Majanka Verstraete

  Violet Haze

  By C. A. King

  Dragonsworn Guardian

  By Sheri-Lynn Marean

  Tainted Ashes

  By Laura Greenwood

  Tales of Dunes and Dragons

  By Juliet Vane

  Embers of Shame

  By Becky Murray

  Exile

  By Victoria DeLuis

  Draco Magis

  By Mary Kit Caelsto

  Eyes of Amber, Wings of Jade

  By Mara Amberly

  The Dragon You Know

  By Joynell Schultz

  Believe

  By Shereen Vedam

  Rise of Dragons

  By Nicole Zoltack

  Tainted

  By J.E. Feldman

  Assassin’s Blade

  By Melinda R. Cordell

  The Flame of Battle

  Melinda R. Cordell and Pauline Creeden

  The Flame of Battle © 2020 Melinda R. Cordell and Pauline Creeden

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  None Shall Get Through Me

  Dyrfinna and Aesa were out in the field that morning to hoe—though, to be closer to the truth, only Dyrfinna was tilling the fine soil with her hoe. Little Aesa chopped at it for a little while, trying to be a big girl like Dyrfinna. Then she would tire and pretend she was a puppy. She was only five years old and a little goosy. She romped around the broken clods of soil, yipping and barking, and then she’d come back and put her hands on Dyrfinna’s side, panting up at her and smiling.

  “Are you my little puppy? Who’s my little puppy?” Dyrfinna asked, giving Aesa-puppy a one-armed hug. “Puppy, puppy, look at these stones! We’re growing a big crop of stones. Can you help me dig them up?”

  Dyrfinna’s hoe struck sparks on a stone the soil had heaved up. Every winter, the soil shrugged up a new crop of stones, slowing down the spring tilling and planting.

  Aesa-puppy barked and started digging around the rock with her little hands, but then changed her mind and picked up her hoe and used that to dig. Dyrfinna joined her, scooping the soil out around the smooth, round boulder—the bones of the rugged land. Dyrfinna handled each one with care, as she considered them sacred objects in a sense, even though they were a terrible annoyance.

  Dyrfinna straightened from her hoeing and rolled her neck, looking across the small Viking city of Skala toward the great mountains of the fjords and the endless ocean. The smell of wood smoke from many chimneys came to her, the quiet conversations of many people in the streets, the complaints of the sheep on the hills, and the music of a hammer striking iron in the forge—all the sounds of home came to her at the height of the field on the hill. The great black ships stood in the harbor, the masts of their fleet standing side-by-side with a trader from the Balkans, several Moorish ships from Iberia, and a number of Viking ships from places like Oslo, Hedeby, and Birka.

  She wanted to get the hoeing done before midday, for she had the usual chores to attend to at home, and she also had to get those out of the way so she could take Grandma for her walk, which was to keep her hands and legs from twisting more. But also Grandma told the best stories and Dyrfinna loved being with her. Then if everything was finished, she could do a little fishing and squeeze in a little sword-work with her battle-friends. They liked to practice combat on the long cliffs over the sea when they could, and they were all going to gather late in the afternoon and bring in supper. They would fight and eat, though not at the same time.

  Suddenly Aesa drew in a sharp breath. “Sissy….”

  Dyrfinna jerked her head up from the boulder she’d just dislodged. Her breath stopped in her throat.

  From out of the tall winter grasses at field’s edge came a wolf, his yellow eyes full on them. Aesa started to whimper.

  When Dyrfinna was her age, she’d seen a pack of wolves take down one of their horses, her favorite horse, and Mama had snatched her up and run hard for the house while Papa had run at our side—backwards—while slamming home arrow after arrow from his bow at the wolves. Afterward, three of their bodies littered the field with arrows sticking out of them. But it did not save her poor horse. She had nightmares about that for moons.

  Dyrfinna bit back a curse. She wouldn’t have been alone in the field in the first place, had she waited for someone to help. Her hand rested on the hilt of the only thing that could protect them. But she’d have to wait for the wolf to come right up to her little sister in order to use that sword.

  “Grab hold of my leg,” Dyrfinna commanded. “Do it!”

  Aesa’s little shaking arms went around Dyrfinna’s left leg.

  “Sissy…” Aesa said again, and her little face crumpled. Her shaking arms loosened. She started to sob against Dyrfinna’s leg.

  The wolf’s intense stare never wavered. It took one slow step towa
rd them. Then two.

  Dyrfinna would have to move quickly. She had to pick up her sis, and she’d need to stoop to do it, and the wolf would likely rush them when she was on his level. At least he was alone, for a wolf with a pack would be calling to them. But a lone wolf was usually more desperate – hungrier.

  With her foot, Dyrfinna touched two of the stones she’d dug up, and pulled them close together so she could easily grab them when she picked up her sister.

  “Aesa,” she said. “On the count of three, I’m going to stoop down and pick you up. If I have to fight this stupid wolf, I need you to hold me as tight as you can. Tight. Like a barnacle. Do you understand?”

  Aesa was still crying, but she nodded. Dyrfinna pulled her sword up a little from the scabbard so it would slide out in one smooth motion when she needed it.

  Her heart pounded hard against her chest. This whole time, her eyes had been fixed on the wolf’s, except for a brief moment when they’d flickered to the stones and flickered to Aesa. Her little sister.

  Well. Now Aesa was going to see how her big sister, who loved her more than anything else in the world, could fight.

  “When I pick you up, I’m going to scream like nothing you’ve ever heard,” she told her sister. “Hold on tighter when I do.”

  The wolf moved in a step. That bastard.

  “Count to three with me,” Dyrfinna told her. “Then you scream when I scream. Okay?”

  Her left hand was around her little shoulders. She felt Aesa nod.

  Dyrfinna made her heart iron.

  That wolf was not going to get her little sis.

  That wolf was going to die right now.

  “One.” She placed her feet into a solid stance, both for fighting and for picking up a three and a half stone girl.

  “Two.” Aesa’s little trembling voice echoed hers.

  Dyrfinna breathed in deep, let it out, let power uncoil through her, just as she’d been taught for so many years.

  “THREE.”

  Dyrfinna stooped, pulled Aesa tight against her body with her left arm, grabbed the two stones with her right hand, and pushed back to her feet with Aesa’s full weight against her left side. I’m going to have to compensate for that when I’m fighting.

  The wolf came, loping toward them across the edge of the field.

  A battle-cry shrilled from her lips, a scream like the eagles thrilling after their prey, and Aesa’s little voice joined hers, though she tucked her head tight against Dyrfinna’s shoulder. Her little arms wrapped around Dyrfinna’s chest, and her little legs gripped Dyrfinna’s belly. A rage Dyrfinna had never felt before rushed up from her feet and through her whole body, and she screamed again and launched the first stone hard at the wolf.

  It struck him in the side of his head but he shook it off and kept coming, teeth showing.

  She flung the second stone, striking him full in the face again. As soon as the stone left her hand Dyrfinna drew her sword from under her sister’s bottom. Thank Freyja, Aesa’s feet were wound around Dyrfinna’s middle and out of the way of her scabbard. The sword her father made for her rang in her hands. The runic inscription NONE SHALL GET THROUGH ME flashed in the sunlight straight down the blade.

  And this giant wolf, all teeth and muscle, ran straight for them

  and Dyrfinna shrilled again for all she was worth

  and everything turned red, red, red,

  and the terrible shock as her sword struck against the wolf’s neck

  so much red.

  And the wolf’s body struck Dyrfinna’s. She staggered backwards and drew the sword up hard, as if pulling it out of a scabbard across the wolf’s chest.

  The wolf’s breath puffed into her face.

  Dyrfinna shoved it.

  A confused struggle, hard pain in her right arm.

  Her sword drove her hand where it needed to go.

  The wolf danced around her feet, lunging. Her sword cut at it.

  The fight became a blood fog as her mind blanked. She broke loose from herself.

  Like a berserker.

  Suddenly Dyrfinna realized Aesa was yelling “Stop, stop, stop, stop!” into her neck.

  Dyrfinna returned to herself, though she still saw through a scrim of red.

  The wolf had crawled a short distance away and was bleeding out its life on her field, the hungry soil drinking its blood.

  Aesa still held tight to her neck.

  And Dyrfinna realized she was still screaming.

  She stopped. Her sword and arm were bright red with blood, as if she’d slaughtered a hog.

  She dropped her sword and put Aesa on the ground. Dyrfinna sank to her knees, and the sisters held each other tight. They cried hard for a minute, and the red rage fled Dyrfinna’s body, leaving her shaken.

  Then Dyrfinna let her sister go, stood, and took a deep breath, looking back at the carcass of her enemy. That enormous wolf’s body, lying crumpled on the earth, now looked as sad and forlorn as any dead dog.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from her screams. “You fought bravely, and I understand how hunger drives you. But one of us had to die, and it was not going to be my little sister.”

  She refused to lose another sister.

  Shouts came from behind them as the villagers came running, having heard the battle screams. Gefjun, Dyrfinna’s closest friend, healer and swordswoman, ran swiftly at the front, thank Freyja. Behind her came her sword-friends: grumbling Ostryg, then Skeggi, whose dark brown eyes always smote her heart. More men and women of the village followed.

  Skeggi’s eyes met hers from across that great distance, and Dyrfinna’s heart—which continued pounding hard—skipped an extra beat.

  Gefjun cried, “Dyrfinna! Your arm!”

  Dyrfinna blinked and looked stupidly at the shredded meat of her upper arm. Her mind struggled to connect what she saw with the burning pain she felt there.

  “How’d that happen,” she mumbled, realizing that a lot of the blood on her arm was actually her own. “That is an awful lot of blood to lose.”

  A hissing mist descended over her eyes and body. She stumbled, but fought to keep her feet.

  She’d heard all her life of brave Viking heroes who’d had holes shot through them with arrows and yet they’d go merrily along. “Oh, it’s just a little wound,” they’d say, then they’d drink a bowl of soup, and the soup would come out of them like they were a sieve, and they’d say, “Oh, I guess that wound wasn’t so little after all,” and then they’d die.

  Gefjun said, barely heard through the fog that filled her ears, “Sit down right now or I am going to punch you, hard.”

  Dyrfinna knew from experience Gefjun wasn’t joking. Almost out of reflex, Dyrfinna collapsed to a sitting position on the soil.

  Gefjun usually went around with her hair tied up in a loose bun and just wearing whatever she had handy, because she spent a lot of time gathering herbs with her mother, caring for the garden, or practicing swords. She was a beautiful young woman, but careless of her beauty. Many red tendrils had escaped her loose bun. Gefjun checked over the wound with her face right up to it, because her eyesight was not keen. But she knew her herbs, and she was very good with them, and with healing.

  “Fresh meat,” she said. “This wound should be easy to work with if we get you back to the village pretty quick.”

  Gefjun tore a long strip off her sleeve, then another, and she bound the wound with them, pulling each strip tight. Dyrfinna bit her lip so she wouldn’t do something stupid like cry out. Skeggi stood in the crowd, and Dyrfinna refused to crack in front of him.

  Her gaze landed on her sister. Aesa’s wide, tear-filled eyes remained fixed on Dyrfinna’s arm.

  “It’ll be fine,” Dyrfinna said, though it hurt like crazy and she was worried about infection. She put her other arm around her sister. “I’ve still got one good arm to hold you with.”

  “Did you really take out that wolf by yourself?” Ostryg asked.

  “No, Aesa d
id,” Dyrfinna grumped. “She cut it down valiantly while I rolled on the ground in terror.”

  Aesa tried to smile at her sister’s joke, but the smile slipped off her little face, and her chin wobbled.

  “Look, we need to take Aesa home to Mama.” Dyrfinna got to her knees to pick her up. Earlier, she had swooped Aesa up into her arms with ease. Now Dyrfinna struggled to get her off the ground. How did I do this and still manage to fight off a wolf with one arm?

  This was the first time she’d fought a battle that had ended in a kill. She’d been told that the first battle leaves the Viking shaken in a way that can’t be described. She had to agree.

  Gefjun set a hand on Dyrfinna’s shoulder and smiled at the little sister. “Aesa, let me pick you up. I think your sister’s just about had it.”

  Aesa shook her head hard. “Only Sissy.”

  Gefjun got down on her level. “You both did us proud. Your sister was very brave, and she earned great honor for you and your family. And you earned great honor, too, because you did everything she said. You were very brave.”