Talon the Black (Dragonwall Series # 1)

Chapter 2 - Shadowkeep

Shadowkeep

Kane paced within the dark edifice of Shadowkeep, his bare feet slapping the rocky floor. The chill had no effect on him. He was used to the cold of these snowcapped mountains.

Try as he might, the repetitive motion failed to quell his agitation. His plans had gone terribly, horribly wrong. The King's Shield had been surprisingly powerful. His mind still bore the headache like a painful memory, unwilling to recede.

A Mind Bender—he should have seen it. The task was supposed to be easy: overpower the carrier and take the remaining Dragon Stones. But he'd underestimated the protector. The Shield broke into his mind and discovered the grand scheme lying within. It left his head burning in agony. He'd been forced to retreat, allowing the Shield to escape north.

He snorted, his pace faltering. So much for remaining in the shadows! His entire plan hinged on secrecy. It would be far easier to carry out his tasks without hordes of Drengr scum searching for his fortress and counter attacking at will.

But not for long....

Such abominations! He could hardly wait to rid the world of the dragon-kind who called themselves Drengr. The dragons alone were meant to carry the mythical form bestowed upon them by his forbearers, the great Asarlaí of old. Blessing certain dragons with humanity? Gifting them the ability to transform into humans? It wholly disgusted him. What was Queen Isabella thinking? But never mind that, he would succeed. Soon, none of draconic descent, dragon or Drengr, would walk this land again.

His pacing continued. Every so often, he stopped to peer from the many loopholes in the tower, searching out over the tall jagged peaks of the Northern Barrier Range. Still no sign of his lethal assassins. Vodar wraiths. He had summoned them from Undirfold to finish his work, and with luck, save him from further exposure. But the longer they tarried, the greater his fury grew. Greater still was the doubt-ridden voice in the depths of his mind. Had they failed? After hundreds of years of meticulous planning, would his precious work be destroyed by one, stupid mistake?

To say he was eager was a vast understatement. He was growing desperate. The two remaining Dragon Stones were all that stood between failure and fulfilling his masterplan. With them, he would have a complete set. With them, he would bring about an end to the Drengr monarchy. What a sweet end it would be.

Dragon Stones....

He'd always found it intriguing that such seemingly harmless objects held so much power. Funnier still, so few in the world knew what they were or how they worked. But he knew, oh yes, and he had to have them, even if he died trying.

He'd first learned about the Dragon Stones during his early years of magic, long before his skin turned pale and gaunt, longer still before his eyes had taken on the red glow they now held. During those times, he lacked the knowledge to truly understand their worth, let alone possess them. Even then, the stones called to him like a shadowed whisper in the night. They were nothing but myth. Descriptions of their existence could only be found scattered throughout old tomes of stories long past. He never let that stop him. Eventually, the day came to seek them out.

It took him nearly half a millennium to locate all five. During his travels, he delved deeper and further into Asarlaí magic, learning things the Magoi could never possibly know. His increasing power kept him alive, giving him the needed strength to carry on. How formidable the power of living was for one determined to fulfill a destiny, especially a prodigious destiny such as his.

The first Stone was an easy acquisition. He procured it from the bottom of Eagle Lake in the North. The depths of its hiding place were far greater than any human could reach. But he was no human. He was an Asarlaí, the last living Asarlaí in Dragonwall.