The Dragonsong Trilogy Box Set Read online

  The Dragonsong Trilogy

  Box Set

  By

  H.C. BROWN

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Banished

  Description

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Dark Magyck

  Description

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Shadow Walkers

  Description

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Author Biography

  End Credits

  LUMINOSITY PUBLISHING LLP

  THE DRAGONSONG TRILOGY BOX SET

  Copyright © October 2015 H.C. Brown

  ISBN: 978-1-910899-35-9

  Cover Art by Poppy Designs

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this literary work may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For those who believe in dragons, this is for you.

  Banished

  The Dragonsong Trilogy – Part One

  H.C. Brown

  Banished to the Singing Forest for witchcraft with only her cat for company, alone and desperately afraid Thalia sings to her dream lover, in the hope someone, anyone will help her.

  Lumos enjoys the favors of many women until his dragon hears the Dragonsong of his mate. Consumed with passion for the girl who haunts his dreams, he leaves home to search for her.

  Nothing goes to plan and he falls into a devious trap set by a dark wizard to destroy all of his kind.

  Chapter One

  The Kingdom of Broclarre

  Thalia of Broclarre struggled against the guards, her movements as useless as a sparrow in the mouth of a cat. Her shoulders burned, and tendons stretched to the limit threatened to rip from her bones. These men cared less if they tore her arms from the sockets. The hard-faced soldiers, gripping her so cruelly, were unfamiliar and not the usual palace protectors. These men wore the uniform of the king’s elite militia.

  “I banish you from the Kingdom of Broclarre, never again to set foot in my kingdom by threat of death.” King Garro lifted his chin, sitting back on the golden throne. “As I have declared this day, so shall it be done.”

  In the hallway, an angry crowd had gathered to hear the king’s proclamation. The masses had fallen silent to stand waiting like buzzards over a dead lamb. One of the guards restraining Thalia swore under his breath, and dug his strong fingers cruelly into her arms.

  She yelped and turned to face her father.

  “Banished?” She stared at King Garro. “Father … please… What have I done to displease you so?”

  “Speak no more, witch. Think not to cast a spell over me for I know your wickedness.” King Garro struggled to his feet. His hand rested on the hilt of the gold dagger at his waist. “I took you into my house, treated you as my own, and you repaid me with death.”

  Aghast, Thalia gaped at her father in disbelief. “Is that what you believe…? That I had a hand in killing the queen?” She stared at the king’s ashen face. The lines around his mouth cut deep, turning his expression bleak. Had he lost his mind with grief?

  Beside him, the High Priest stood erect, his lips curled in a vicious smile. Thalia glared at the man in the crisp white robes. “Did you fill the king’s mind with these lies? I would never hurt my mother.” She met her father’s daunting expression. “I could never do harm to anyone. I am a healer. Ask anyone in the village, I help people.” She pointed at the High Priest. “There! There stands the evil in this palace.”

  “To think my dear wife had compassion for your sorry soul.” Garro shook his head slowly. “Her belief a wholesome upbringing would prevent the evil magyck rising in a demon’s seed was the error of a gentle, childless woman.” The king ran a hand over his face. “And she paid with her life.” His black gaze traveled over Thalia, and he gave a snort of disgust. “No more will you breathe the same air as my people.” He punched a fist into the palm of his hand. “If I had not given my word to uphold Brea’s dying wish to set you free, I would have taken your head this day.”

  Pain tightened in a wide band around her heart. Confused, she met the king’s enraged expression. The man’s piercing blue eyes looked on her with contempt, disgust, and hatred. The only father she had ever known curled his large hands into fists. This angry man had once loved her, taught her how to hold a bow, and to gentle a horse. Gods help me, now he wants me dead.

  Overwhelmed by grief, she drew a shuddering breath. Tears stung her eyes. With effort, she bit back the sobs threatening to break forth and lifted her chin. “Aye, Father, indeed I do have the magyck. If you had seen your way to allow me to treat Queen Brea’s illness, instead of locking me in the East Wing, she would not have died.”

  “Do not utter her name, witch. My queen was not your mother.” Spittle formed in the corner of King Garro’s mouth. “You… You unholy spawn of the devil were born of the forest and considered so evil your own blood left you to die. Had we known then the meaning of the name marked on your garments, you would have been left to the wolves.” He grimaced. The rich, red cloak bearing his colors swirled around his legs with each agitated step. “Aye, we all heard you sing to the dragon, no doubt to use the beast’s magyck to hasten the death of my queen.” He dropped his head, defeated. “Too late … too late, to save her innocent life but at least she sleeps in peace now.” Garro swiped a tear from his cheek. “Thank the gods I secured you in the East Wing. Did you think I would allow you to practice magyck on my sweet Briar and send her innocent soul to the Underworld?” He stepped menacingly closer to Thalia and met her gaze. “Aye… I know what you are and why your people left you to die. You are a Soul Catcher. I know of your magyck and vow you will never again use your evil spells on my people—not as long as I live.” He slid the dagger from a jeweled scabbard at his waist and waved it in front of Thalia’s face. “Speak no more or I will remove your tongue myself.” With a curt nod to the guards, he turned, and with a swirl of red robes strode from the great hall. The echo of his retreating footsteps sealed her fate.

  Disbelief slammed into Thalia. She fought back the desire to scream. The mortifying sadness of losing her mother paled into insignificance. A wave of desolation consumed her—nothing she could do or say would change the king’s mind now. The man had delivered her into the hands of a vicious group of guards. Thalia took in the smirking faces of the men and made a silent vow. I will survive this injustice and one day I will prove my innocence.

  Thrust toward the massive, studded oak doors, Thalia stumbled. The crowd cramming the hallway roared and the air filled with the stink of the unwashed. She fell onto the cold flagstones and sprawled on the ground. Pain shot from her scraped hands and knees. She dragged in a breath, her lungs empty from the fall, and stare
d at the people crowded around her—her people—the familiar faces distorted with hatred. Someone aimed a kick at her ribs and a dirty boot crushed her fingertips. She cried out in pain, cradling the throbbing fingers against her chest. A trickle of sweat slid down her back. Fear curled in her belly. They will tear me to shreds. The gods help me.

  “Burn the witch. Burn the witch.” The chant echoed through the corridors of the great palace.

  Tomatoes and rotten vegetables splattered her back with agonizing repetition then a sharp stone cut into her cheek. She blinked at the crimson drops of blood staining the floor and swiped at the stream tickling her face. A night soil bucket crashed to the ground close to her head and the stained, metal container tipped, splashing the contents over her in a wave of brown fluid. She gagged at the acrid stink and bile filled her mouth. The crowd cheered in approval. She gathered up her stained silk gown and rose to her knees. The dirt and soil ground into open wounds. Gaping into the hatred before her, she opened her arms wide.

  “I am innocent… Please … do not do this to me.”

  “You will not speak.” A guard dragged her roughly to her feet. He turned to the other guard. “Erik, you are in charge. Let me tie her hands and gag her before she starts cursing the entire palace.”

  “Aye.” Erik turned a look of disgust on Thalia. “Show no mercy.”

  The rope cut deep into her flesh. The guard, Erik, gave her a malicious grin then groped the front of her bodice for a silk handkerchief with his gloved hand. He gave a feral grunt and tied the soft yellow fabric around her head. Thalia’s mouth gaped open. She tasted the stream of warm, metallic blood seeping into her mouth. Wide-eyed, she scanned the crowd in the hope of seeing one friendly face. Surely, one of the hundred or so people that she had tended this past year would speak on her behalf. The crowd hushed and split apart to make way for a group of heavily armed militia. They formed a guard around her. Erik wrapped the rope around one of his large hands.

  She turned her gaze on the large man. “Let me walk. I beg you do not drag me on this hard floor.”

  “Take one last look at your home, witch.” The man’s nostrils curled with distaste and he turned away, dragging Thalia along the passageway.

  Blinded by tears, Thalia stumbled behind Erik. The familiar passageway stretched out before her. They turned left to take another corridor, leaving the angry crowd mumbling behind them. Here, oppressive black granite walls opened into an entry hall with a majestic cathedral ceiling. Portraits of King Garro’s ancestors glared down at her as if to stand in judgment. Along each side of the hall, a row of polished, white marble columns brought back sweet memories of a wondrous childhood, playing hide-and-seek, and laughter, so much laughter. How did I come to this? Gods, what did I do?

  The great doors to the courtyard stood open—sunlight danced across the flagstones dusting the sandstone with gold and diamonds. Thalia moved forward through the door and blinked into the brightness. Two covered wagons containing her possessions, her trunk, her spinning wheel, and the thick woolen cloak she wore hunting waited for her in the courtyard. She gazed up at the man holding her so cruelly. He resembled a hawk, his shaved head accentuating a hard, angular face with black eyes ever watching.

  “The king wants nothing of your evil to remain.” Erik pulled on the rope. “Only the grace of our queen’s memory prevented me burning this rubbish. She wanted no harm to come to you.” He ground his teeth. “Although we all know you had her spellbound.”

  Thalia looked back at the palace, her home, once a place of safety and love. A sob caught in her throat. Never again would she bathe in the comfort of her family or the trust of her friends. The rope tightened and Thalia stumbled forward, the dusty trail shimmered through her tears, the road ahead leading her to wherever or whatever her future may be.

  Chapter Two

  Drakka

  Lumos stretched on the soft sheet, the delectable taste of Lucinda lingered on his tongue. He licked his bottom lip. The heavy scent of feminine arousal caused his cock to fill, igniting an urgency to take her again. Gods, of late, no female satisfied him for long. Tomorrow I will invite those sweet things visiting from Draconia to my bed. He smiled into the darkness, enjoying the languid weightlessness from a night of indulgent sex. Under his palm, the female’s belly quivered at his touch, the Faerie’s peach-fuzz skin an erotic delight. Raised up on one elbow, he gazed at Lucinda. Moonlight bathed her body, turning her sweat-soaked skin into the finest alabaster. The Faerie held her lips in a swollen pout. Her long, platinum hair stuck to her cheeks, and spilled down her back to curl around her heart-shaped bottom. Lumos skimmed a path to Lucinda’s pert breast and fondled the Faerie’s rosy nipple.

  I am insatiable. Gods, he had enjoyed the pleasure of three Faeries this eve before Lucinda had demanded his undivided attention. All had come to his bed to ease the worry of the upcoming battle—the Nightdragon would soon have to defend the Kingdom of Drakka with a fight to the death.

  He bent to suckle the cherry tip of her breast. I have over six months and many sweet Faeries to bed before I meet Kird. The dragon inside him stirred. The connection boomed in Lumos’s mind. The voice of the Nightdragon disturbed his thoughts.

  “Lumos, put aside your lust and listen.”

  Lumos lifted his head. No sound echoed through the stillness of the palace. “Listen to what? Go back to sleep, I will not have you disturb my rest.

  “We are not asleep.” The Nightdragon pushed harder against Lumos’s consciousness. “Do you think I sleep while you indulge your lust? In truth, I find it quite intoxicating, although I do not experience any pleasure.” The dragon chuckled. “Now I have your attention, do listen. Can you not hear the melody carried from afar?”

  With a grunt, Lumos turned his head and caught a lilting song as if carried on the breeze, yet no wind brushed his face. The voice, female, alluring, curled around Lumos’s heart in a lover’s embrace. Flames of wicked, sensual delight licked up the inside of his thighs to caress his balls. Gods, what is happening to me? Gasping, he sat on the edge of the bed. His mind filled with a sweet, gentle voice.

  “Dragon of the moon, I see your shadow as you search the night.

  Come to me, with skin of darkness, eye of green.

  Take me—honor me, for I am yours.

  I beg you, Nightdragon, save me from my plight.”

  The dragon inside him roared. Smoke poured from Lumos’s nostrils. He slid from the bed and strolled to the balcony. The hint of a breeze cooled his heated skin. Turning his head to catch the melodic tones of an angel, he gazed far into the distance. “What is that? The song befuddles my brain, yet is strangely compelling. Gods, I think I am dying of pleasure.”

  Far in the distance, the female’s voice continued to seduce him with deep longing. A desire like no other compelled him to rush to her side.

  Lust consumes me. What is this song, dragon?

  “It is the Dragonsong. Fly, Lumos, set me free.”

  Lumos unfurled his wings, confused by his dragon’s request. The Dragonsong is a myth, some trick to lure us from Drakka.

  “No, Lumos, this is no falsehood. Our mate calls to us, and every second we waste arguing, her song drifts out of reach. If I take to the sky, I may be able to determine which direction to go.” The Nightdragon brushed against Lumos’s mind. “Fly now.”

  I think you are mistaken, but I will do as you wish. Urgency, anticipation, and joy shimmered through Lumos from his dragon. He took a deep breath and leaped into the air. The song replayed, dancing on the breeze. His heart clenched with recognition. Somewhere deep inside a connection formed and a name slammed hard into his mind. Thalia.

  How could a simple song cause such a reaction? His inner dragon acted on instinct and Lumos relied on the beast’s judgment. He opened his wings, moving swiftly away from the palace. Heat burned his flesh. The dragon clawed at his mind.

  “Set me free.”

  In a burst of white magyck, the Nightdragon exploded into the darkness an
d soared into the sky. With a flap of black velvet wings, the demanding beast circled the kingdom of Drakka. The Nightdragon’s ears strained, twisting this way and that, to pick up the direction of the song. The beast’s roars of frustration echoed through the empty streets. Lumos stared down at the rows of houses. His people lived in trepidation of the coming challenge.

  Have no fear, good people of Drakka. I will give my life to protect you.

  A visitor in this massive body. Lumos watched through his dragon’s sight. Everything appeared smaller from such a distance. Indeed, the palace resembled a child’s toy. The dragon distinguished all things living by auras of different colors. The display of brilliant hues lit the Drakkan nightscape with a rainbow of life.

  The Nightdragon accelerated, leaving the city far behind. He searched in a wide arc for the origin of the elusive song. Exhilarated with the power of his alter ego, Lumos wanted to stay in dragon form forever. The strength of the beast surged through him, all earthly bounds dropped away, and he became one with the Nightdragon in the search for their mate.

  The song faded, the last strains hanging for a moment of bliss in the night air. Defeated, the dragon rose through the clouds to pay homage to the moon. With air filling his massive wings, the Nightdragon glided down to perch on the highest peak. As the beast scrambled for purchase, his curved talons ripped at the rock face, dislodging boulders. The ensuing landslide thundered down the mountainside, crashing into the valley below and sending up great plumes of dust. The Nightdragon opened his massive maw and roared in anguish. White-hot flames poured from his snout and blasted the rock face, melting the granite into a shimmer of white crystal. The Nightdragon’s distress rippled through Lumos.

  “I have failed to find the origin of the song.”