The Ice Dragon: Dragon Knights, Book 3

  Dedication

  This is a very special book to me. It was the starting point for one of my all-time favorite characters. The baby dragon, Tor, is near and dear to my heart and I know to many of yours as well. How I wish we could all have a little Tor running around in our backyards, getting into innocent mischief and being the cuddliest dragon I know. So this book really belongs to him. Thanks for coming into my life, Tor, and wanting your story to be told.

  And as always, my work is dedicated to my family. My mother, who encouraged me to follow my dreams, and my dad, who fired my imagination and love of science as a youngster and still shares my love of science fiction and fantasy.

  Prologue

  Salomar threw the useless girl in with the egg. He had no care for the girl, but the egg, now that could be profitable if he treated it right. Tall as a full-grown man and then some, the egg was near maturity, or so he’d been told. He and his men had run off the wild dragon guarding the egg. It hadn’t been easy, but with the help of his pet witch, it had been done. The great wild Ice Dragon took to the skies, blinded and without memory of the egg she left behind, thanks to the enchantments of the North Witch, Loralie.

  Salomar fancied himself king of the Northlands. He had an army, a pet witch and many slaves to do his bidding. That the Northlands were little more than frozen crags of rock in between mountainous glaciers didn’t bother him. He was king of it all. Or so he thought.

  The slave girl felt much older than she appeared. Half-starved from years of deprivation, still she managed to cling to life and the illusion of youth she cultivated. It protected her somewhat from the brigands Salomar called his knights. The noble word was wasted on the ruffians muffled in dirty furs, stinking to the heavens. The men rarely washed and most were as foul-mouthed as they were foul-smelling. A few had tried to corner her, even as skinny and unassuming as she was, but some quick thinking and agility had helped her evade them. So far.

  Lana remembered a time before, when she had lived with her mother and sisters. There were two, she remembered, a girl her own age who was her mirror image and a little baby, just beginning to walk. They had called the toddler Lora and her twin was named Riki. She thought of them once in a while and wondered what had become of them. The last thing she remembered of that life was being in a busy marketplace. She’d been caught in rough hands and knocked senseless.

  When Lana woke days later, she was already in the Northlands. Her thin clothing had been inadequate for the freezing temperatures and snow, and her memories were clouded by drugs. At least at first. She realized now, with years of hindsight, she’d been drugged into unconsciousness while being transported to the frozen north. Where her true homeland really lay, she did not know.

  Sold into slavery, she was beaten for the first time soon after waking. Crying didn’t help, and after the first few beatings, she gave in and went meekly about her assigned tasks. She was a slave in Salomar’s house, assigned first to tending the fires, then later she was given tasks that demanded more skill and strength as she grew older. She helped with the washing, sewing, cooking and whatever needed doing.

  Apparently the latest thing that needed doing was caring for a dragon egg. She’d been frightened out of her wits when Salomar threw her into the dragon’s nest and locked the metal bars newly installed across the entrance to the lair. Salomar taunted that she’d be the dragonet’s first meal. Fearing he was right, Lana still had no choice but to make her home with the dragon egg for as long as Salomar wished it.

  She tended three massive fires placed strategically around the egg, designed to keep it warm. The fires burned night and day, and for the first time since she had been transported northward, she was completely warm. A few times when she was alone, she found herself wanting to touch the silvery, almost luminescent eggshell, but was too scared to actually do it. Still, she was tempted. One night when the guard who sat outside the barred entrance was snoring loudly, she steeled herself, went behind the egg, out of the guard’s sight, and touched the iridescent shell.

  A sudden, plaintive cry echoed loudly through her mind, and her hand darted back. Cautiously, she brought her fingers back to the smooth surface. Again a fear-filled cry sounded through her mind, like nothing she’d ever heard before.

  Sweet Mother of All. It was the baby dragon…crying inside the egg.

  It sounded so scared—almost as scared as she was—and Lana felt pity for the poor little creature.

  “Baby dragon, don’t be afraid,” she thought, instinctively placing her palm on the slightly shimmering surface of the egg. The soft mewling stopped, replaced by a feeling of cautious curiosity that somehow communicated through the shell into her mind.

  “Where mommy?”

  Sweet Mother. The baby dragon in the shell was talking to her!

  Marshaling her spinning thoughts, Lana tried to send a reply to the dragonet, though she’d never communicated in such a way before.

  “I don’t know.” Somehow the dragonet picked up on her thoughts. She felt its hopes deflate as it received her message. It was the most amazing thing.

  “Why warm then?” The dragonet seemed puzzled, projecting its impressions of warmth on the three sides of its fragile home where she tended the huge fires.

  “I’ve been keeping fires lit so you would be warm,” she admitted.

  “You new mommy?”

  She chuckled then. “No, I’m human, not a dragon like you.”

  “But you feel like me. Inside.”

  She had no idea what the dragonet meant. “I’ll keep the fires going until you come out of your shell, then you can see what I look like. I’m very small compared to you, even now.”

  “You stay with me?”

  She felt the insecurity of the little dragon who had been abandoned by his mother. Lana stroked the shell with some affection, though she still feared the emergence of the dragonet. In all likelihood, it would eat her as soon as it was born. But that’s what Salomar wanted. That’s why he’d put her in here and she wouldn’t be let out until the dragonet was born and either ate her or not.

  “I’ll stay.” She sighed.

  “Talk to me?”

  “I’ll talk to you when I can. When the others are looking it will be hard. We are watched almost constantly, but I’ll be nearby if I can’t touch your shell.”

  “Shell?”

  “Where you are now. One day soon, I think, you’ll be strong enough to break out of there.”

  “Then we play together?”

  “Yes, then we can play together.”

  If the dragonet didn’t eat her first. Still, the little thing seemed eager to play and very friendly. Maybe it wouldn’t eat her, and wouldn’t that be a surprise to Salomar?

  When the first crack appeared in the egg, the guards summoned Salomar. He came with his vicious dogs to watch the emergence of the dragon. Lana tried to stay out of his line of sight as much as possible, her mind silently encouraging the little dragon who struggled with the heavy weight of the thick shell. Over the last week, the dragon had grown much stronger. She didn’t even need to be in contact with the shell in order for them to communicate now. The dragon reached out to her with its young mind wherever she was and could pick up on her thoughts anywhere in the large nesting chamber.

  Lana was grateful to have experienced the dragonet’s friendship even for this short a time. It almost felt like having her sister back at her side. The ache of losing her twin had been constant since first awakening in the frozen north. Her sister had shared her mind on rare occasions and now this dragon was there full time. It was comforting, in its way.

  The eggshell was much thicker than she thought it would be. Half a foot th
ick, it took all the dragonet’s great strength to break through it, bit by bit. She wondered what he would look like. She knew he was male from his thoughts, but she didn’t know what color he might be. She remembered hearing tales of many-colored dragons from her mother when she was little, though she’d never seen one.

  Now, it seemed, was her chance. Slowly, a fragile wing emerged from one side of the shell. At first, the shiny scales seemed to glow with every color of the rainbow, reflecting and refracting the light of the fires, but then she realized the true color of the dragonet. He was silver! Like smooth, clear ice, almost.

  “Oh! You’re going to be so handsome!”

  “You think so? What color?”

  They had talked about different colors, though the dragonet really had no concept of what color was yet. Still, he seemed curious. “You’re a beautiful icy silver color, I think. Like a mirror. Very reflective and shiny. Wait ’til you see yourself.”

  “Soon.” The baby dragon puffed. “Must rest now.”

  She realized the effort it took the little dragon to get out of the armor-like shell. “Can I do anything to help you?”

  “No. Must do myself.”

  Again, she felt him mentally steeling himself for another effort. With a little mewling growl, the head of the dragonet popped through the upper portion of the huge egg. Slowly, the great diamond-like eyes blinked open, looking around the cave, then settling on her.

  “Mommy?”

  “I’ve told you. I’m not your mommy. My name is Alania. I’m human. You’re a dragon.”

  “My name Tor.”

  “Tor?”

  “What mommy called me.”

  A tear came to her eye at the thought of this little orphaned dragon. He shouldn’t be alone, but then, neither should she. Warriors had ruined both of their lives. “My mother called me Lana. It’s a shorter version of my name.”

  “Lana.” His sparkling eyes blinked down at her. “You’re small.”

  “I told you!” She smiled up at him, careful to keep her back to the bars where Salomar still watched. “I’m human. I don’t have wings.”

  “Wings?”

  She spread her arms out to the sides and the dragon did the same, bursting through the shell on either side in a great shower of pearly silver. The rest of the shell fell away as baby Tor stood on shaky legs for the first time. He flapped his sticky wings, fanning the flames still roaring all around him.

  The fire did nothing to tough dragon skin. Fire was his friend. In fact, the baby dragon seemed to know instinctively to polish his wings and the rest of his sticky skin in the flames.

  “Feels good,” he said, bathing in the flames. The sight had her staring in awe. She’d had no idea dragons were so impervious to fire. Oh, she had heard as a child that they breathed flame, but she’d never thought much about it, having never met a dragon before.

  When he was clean and shiny, he turned back to her, his huge head looming over her small body as he moved closer and closer. She heard the jeering yells from behind the bars. Salomar and his men were taking bets on how the dragonet would eat her. Would he play with his food or devour her quickly? The thought sickened her.

  “Why afraid?” The dragonet’s head cocked in an attitude of puzzlement.

  She would be brave. If this was her last moment of life, she would face it with courage.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes!” The dragonet’s stomach growled. His head swiveled as the noise from Salomar and his men grew. The hounds barked loudly now as their jaws snapped at the bars.

  “You must eat to live,” she said sadly.

  “I know.”

  “I don’t mind.” She steeled herself.

  “Good.”

  Turning from her, the dragonet moved toward the bars and the snarling dogs Salomar held on long chains. The bars were meant to keep the dragonet in but were wide enough in places for the dogs to scurry through. When Salomar leapt back in fear of the approaching dragon, he loosed the chains and the dogs dashed forward.

  Tor snapped at them happily, their sharp teeth and fierce growls meaning nothing to him. Within moments, all but one was eaten, the crunch of their bones deafening in the silence of the cave. The remaining dog fled the dragon and began menacing Lana. She backed away, her stomach clenching in icy-cold fear as the dog snarled at her and drew closer. Salomar had often used his dogs to savage other slaves and she knew they were used to the taste of human flesh.

  Lana focused on the dog, unaware of the great silver dragonet coming up behind the beast until it was plucked from the ground in a taloned paw, run through and eaten like the others. She sighed in relief as Tor grumbled happily. When he’d finished with the dogs, Tor curled up into a sinuous ball almost at her feet and started to snore. He was sated and sleepy and, apparently, would not eat her that day.

  Salomar seemed shocked at the dragon’s behavior and not a little upset about losing his favorite attack dogs, but his eyes shone with avarice as he gazed at the dragon. Evidently a few dogs were less important to him than having a pet dragon at his disposal. He sent Lana a sinister smile.

  “Seems he likes you. Good then. You can be his caretaker for now. If he comes to any harm, it’ll be your head on a platter.”

  Lana trembled as the warlord stalked away, taking his minions with him. Only one guard was left to watch over them both so they wouldn’t try to escape.

  A reprieve, she thought. She would make good use of it. Already a plan formed in her mind. First, Tor would need to grow strong. Once he could fly and breathe fire, nothing would stand in his way. She would find a way for him to escape and maybe, just maybe, he would take her along. For the first time in over a decade, things were looking up.

  Chapter One

  The black dragon was hurting, wounded in more than one place on his thick, ebony hide.

  “Sweet Mother!” He’d never been in so much pain.

  And the bolts kept coming.

  Who knew the Northern barbarians had rigged a giant crossbow they could move around so agilely? He’d taken one shot in the wing and one near his groin almost before he knew it. The bastards had more than one of the infernal machines and they were all trained on him.

  Another bolt hit him in the side, its diamond-bladed tip the only thing sharp enough to slice through dragon scale. He knew he was done for, but he’d take out at least some of these sorry bastards before he fell. Turning his great head with a roar of flame, the black dragon destroyed one of the machines, frying the slovenly soldiers manning it.

  He didn’t have much strength left. Two of the machines remained, but he’d be lucky to attack once more, if that. He turned and swooped, and suddenly there was a huge silver dragon beneath him, making the attack run for him. It bellowed in rage and let out a stream of fire, cooking the soldiers and the deadly machine. The silver made short work of the third crossbow as well, dodging the bolts with flying skills that would have impressed the black if he hadn’t been so gravely wounded, his wings stretching painfully just to keep him aloft.

  The black’s eyes opened wide as he realized the sparkling silver was a fighting dragon. There was a knight on the strange dragon’s back, wrapped in furs against the cold northern wind. The silver took a position underneath him and led the way to what he hoped was safety. He was too tired to think, too close to unconsciousness to question. It was good, he thought, that another of his kind was there to witness his death. Both the silver dragon and the knight would be there with him, at the end.

  “Not far now, brother.” Tor spoke to the mind of the black dragon riding the air currents directly above him. “My rider will move forward. I want you to rest on my back as much as you can. Align your wings with mine.”

  The black did as he was asked but was clearly too far gone to answer in words. Luckily, they were close to their lair. It was just over the next mountain ridge. Tor would support the smaller black dragon, and perhaps he and Lana would have a shot at saving the black’s life. Tor was lonely, b
eing the only dragon for miles and miles around. It would be nice to have a companion of his own kind.

  The black stretched his smaller wings along Tor’s and his weight settled on Tor’s back. It was an odd sensation, but he was big and strong and able to compensate for the added weight. Within moments, they soared over the craggy mountain ridge that kept them mostly safe from Salomar and his so-called army. Tor made the descent to the cliff-side cave as carefully as possible. It wasn’t an ideal location for a lair, but it was as good as they’d been able to find on all the mountains they’d tried. They would have to move again soon, now that Salomar knew where they were, but for now, it was home.

  The landing was a bit more abrupt than Tor had hoped, but then, he’d never landed with an injured dragon on his back before. The black was still semi-conscious and, once on the ground, slid to his own feet, walked a few steps into the lair, then collapsed.

  Instantly, Lana was off Tor’s back and at the fallen black’s side. All would be well. She would help his brother of the skies.

  Lana ran to the fallen dragon, her heart in her throat. She’d learned the hard way how to use her healing gift. She’d discovered it quite by accident while Tor was still newly hatched.

  When he hurt himself, she was able to heal him. It was a secret she had kept hidden while they were still prisoners of Salomar, but once they escaped, she’d used her gift many times to heal Tor as he learned how to be a dragon in the wild.

  He had no grown dragons to teach him, so everything he learned was either instinctive or through trial and error. Some of those errors had been very costly. Like the time he nearly ran himself through, thinking Salomar’s bolts couldn’t pierce dragon scale. He’d almost died that time and would have but for her gift.

  Lana had learned a valuable lesson about her abilities that day too. Any major healing knocked her out completely, and though she’d saved Tor from certain death, she’d lain near death herself for several days. She learned then how she gave of her own life energy when she healed Tor. He’d watched over her recovery but was unable to do much except keep her warm with his puffing breaths and worry.