Celo's Quest (The Dragons of Incendium Book 8) Read online

  “Would you be Draco, then?”

  That smile broadened lazily and the eyes gleamed. “I would. And you?”

  “Celo. Prince Celo of Regalia.”

  The dragon studied him again. “You’re not who I expected. Are you lost?”

  Who had Draco expected?

  “No, I don’t think so. The raven told me it was time and the birds showed me my destination.”

  “Well, then, things must have changed.” The dragon seemed to be considering this. His expression and relaxed manner indicated that the process could take a while. Celo was interested in learning Draco’s plans for him a little sooner than that.

  “May I ask a question?”

  “You just did.”

  “Another?”

  Draco chuckled. “Again, you just did.”

  Celo cleared his throat and avoided the trap for the third time. “Who were you expecting?”

  “The spellbreaker, of course. Such heroes are inclined to collect their rewards.” Draco’s eyes sparkled.

  Celo wondered what the reward might be. “Would you have given it?”

  “Of course!”

  “How do you know I didn’t do it?”

  “There’s no smell of spellcraft about you, nor do I detect that you’ve visited that horrific cavern.”

  Celo shuddered at even the oblique reference to the Queen’s Grotto. “I haven’t.”

  “Yet the spellbreaker did, because the spell was there.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Draco’s expression was pitying. “Aren’t all spells still kept there?”

  He knew something of Regalia, then. “It must have been my brother, Venero. He was going there with Gemma.”

  “Gemma?” Draco’s eyes lit with the sparks of a brighter flame.

  Celo saw no reason to hold back any detail he knew, especially as Draco could just read his mind. “One of the dragon princesses of Incendium. She said Venero was the Carrier of the Seed. He seemed to be taken with her, as well, particularly as she had started to break the spell cast upon him by his twin brother, Urbanus.”

  Draco nodded. “I approve of dragon princesses who break spells. What happened?”

  “I think Urbanus and our mother Arcana are dead.”

  “And Venero?”

  “He is king now, and Gemma his queen.”

  Draco lifted a brow. “Will he be a good king?”

  “Yes.” Celo had no hesitation.

  “Who is Gemma’s father?”

  “King Ouros of Incendium.”

  “And his father?”

  Celo wasn’t certain whether Draco had slept through Ouros’ administration or whether this was a test. It felt like a test, so he tried to recall the history of the royal family of Incendium. “Torris, I believe.”

  “His father?”

  “Dracon.”

  “A fine name.” Draco chuckled. “His father?”

  “Ardeo was the fourth dragon King of Incendium. He had a twin brother, Incantos.”

  “Ardeo and Incantos,” Draco repeated, his tone thoughtful.

  Did he remember them or not?

  “How long have you been sleeping here?” Celo asked, feeling a little bolder since he hadn’t been injured yet. “Ardeo and Incantos were born almost eleven hundred Incendium years ago.”

  “Longer than that, clearly,” Draco said with a tinge of impatience. “Their father?”

  Unfortunately, Celo didn’t recall all of the early kings, so he jumped back to the first one. “Did you know Scintillon, the first dragon King of Incendium? He claimed the throne in what became Incendium year one, almost two thousand years ago.”

  “Scintillon, yes.” Draco nodded. “I remember him as a young slave with a human wife.” He mused before he continued. “Primula. That was her name. His owner used to beat her to ensure Scintillon’s obedience. I never thought he’d amount to much.”

  “He founded a dynasty.” Celo took a breath. “He exiled those who protested against him here, to Regalia.”

  “When things became more noisy.” Draco arched a brow. “And a young rogue who called himself the King of Regalia took umbrage at my request for quiet and solitude.”

  “That’s when you went to sleep?”

  “I was enchanted then, yes.” Draco leaned closer to sniff Celo, and Celo tried to keep from recoiling. “Being a prince of Regalia must make you a descendant of that...individual.”

  “But not a Spellcaster.” Celo wriggled free and held up his hands. “I refused to learn the family craft.”

  Draco’s eyes glittered and his voice dropped low. “The ability to cast magic is inherent and often inherited. I smell it in your blood.”

  Celo was much less certain of his own safety, given Draco’s expression. “I can read the thoughts of others. That’s the extent of my gift.”

  Draco’s gaze hardened. “Prove it. Read mine.”

  It was a test and a good one. Celo had been trying to read Draco’s mind ever since the dragon’s eye had opened with no results at all. He’d thought it a good idea to try to determine what the dragon intended to do to him, not that he would have been able to do much about it.

  He hadn’t been able to discern one thing.

  He tried again, but might have been attempting to scale the face of a sheer rock wall. He strained, he stretched, he tried to sneak, but he was confounded by every technique he’d found effective in the past.

  Draco’s eyes shone, and Celo knew he wasn’t surprised.

  “I can’t,” he admitted.

  “No. But the raven talks to you?”

  “Not often, but he does. He told me it was time.”

  “Well, that must mean something. The most reliable sources of news for me have always been the ravens.” Draco nodded slowly, his gaze sliding over the view. His voice rumbled when he was pensive and sent vibrations through Celo. “He must have sent you for a reason.”

  Celo hoped that was a good thing. “Then you aren’t going to eat me?”

  “You’d be barely a bite.”

  “Burn me or destroy me?”

  Draco’s smile widened, revealing an astonishing array of sharp white teeth. His breath was hot and his eyes shone. “No, I want something far more important from you.”

  Celo’s hands clenched in fear. “What’s that?”

  “I want to give you the spellbreaker’s reward.”

  Celo felt sudden trepidation. What was the spellbreaker owed? It might not be a good reward. It might be harmful to his health. It might shake his mind or rattle his bones or leave him scarred or...

  “What’s that?” Celo asked, hearing that his own voice was no more than a squeak.

  “I want you to listen to a story, of course.”

  Celo barely believed his own ears.

  But Draco moved and the wind ruffled through Celo’s hair. The dragon settled himself again and put Celo down. His forelegs rested along the rocky ground, defining a hollow that blocked the wind. Celo shivered a little and Draco noticed. He reared back and lifted the claw that had held Celo, reaching down to seize a dead tree from the flat land that surrounded his resting place.

  He broke it into pieces with one claw, the logs and sticks falling into a pile in the clearing before himself. He pushed a pile together, then breathed a plume of fire upon it. The dry wood crackled as it lit, a bonfire casting golden light and welcome heat around it. Draco settled again, forming that hollow with his legs again and Celo sat on one talon, holding his hands to the blaze.

  “Thank you very much,” he said, and Draco inclined his head slightly.

  Celo was still hungry but he was warm, and that was enough of an improvement that he could listen to a story.

  “I believe you still have a piece of bread,” the dragon reminded him.

  “I wouldn’t want to be rude,” Celo said but the dragon smiled.

  “I don’t want hunger to affect your attention. Go ahead.”

  Celo pulled out the last piece of bread from hi
s purse and ate it slowly.

  “In the beginning, there was the fire,” Draco said, his voice a low rumble that Celo could feel as well as hear.

  Draco’s back loomed high over Celo, and one wing was slightly unfolded to provide shelter. Instead of seeing the stars overhead, Celo watched the light from the fire play over the silver membrane of the underside of Draco’s wing. The dragon looked out over Regalia—which Celo couldn’t see because of the height of Draco’s foreleg—his eyes narrowed to bright slits.

  “And the fire burned hot because it was cradled by the earth. The fire burned bright because it was nurtured by the air. The fire burned lower only when it was quenched by the water. And these were the four elements of divine design, of which all would be built and with which all would be destroyed. And the elements were the cornerstones of the material universe and it was good.”

  Celo felt himself almost lulled to sleep by the dragon’s deep voice and the heat of the fire. Draco spoke slowly and melodically, taking time over each word and phrase. Celo wondered if his companion would even be able to tell an entire story that night, then realized he didn’t much care.

  “But the elements were alone and undefended, incapable of communicating with each other, snared within the matter that was theirs to control. And so, out of the endless void was created a race of guardians whose appointed task was to protect and defend the integrity of the four sacred elements. They were given powers, the better to fulfill their responsibilities; they were given strength and cunning and longevity to safeguard the treasures surrendered to their stewardship. To them alone would the elements respond. These guardians were—and are—dragons.”

  “You can command the elements?”

  “If I so choose.” Draco smiled, a slow curve that lifted the corner of his mouth.

  “I thought you were enchanted.”

  “Compelled to take the form of one element until released. I chose earth, stone really, because I knew I could survive longer in the shelter of that element.”

  “Are you the last of your kind?” Celo had to ask, never having seen a dragon before. Gemma was a dragon shifter, but he hadn’t seen her in her dragon form, and he’d never traveled to Incendium.

  “I am the one of my kind, the only, the alpha and the omega.” Draco glanced at Celo. “At least now.”

  “Then you’re old.”

  “Old enough to remember the selection of Fiero-Four. Do you know why the system is called that?”

  “Because there are four habitable planets in the system,” Celo said, recalling his tutor’s lessons.

  Draco laughed and even the earth below him shook. “But you only live on two of them.”

  “It’s true. Only Incendium and Regalia have cities, but Sylvawyld was used as a hunting ground.” He left out the detail of his forebears hunting the verran to extinction there, as he doubted Draco would be impressed by that. “There aren’t enough of us that we need to colonize Caligo.”

  “That’s not the origin of the system’s name,” Draco said sternly.

  “Then what is?”

  “Fiero is a reference to fire, and four is a reference to the four dragons who came to this system. We weren’t the first residents, but we brought knowledge and understanding and drew the inhabitants out of their dark ages.” His eyes shone. “You could say we brought the spark of inspiration.”

  Celo sat up with interest. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I intended to, but you asked questions.” There was a hint of censure in the dragon’s tone, as well as enough amusement that Celo knew he was safe.

  “I do apologize,” he said, thinking it wise to be particularly polite to a creature that could eat him in a single bite. “I’m just so interested.”

  “And so it is with people everywhere,” Draco mused. “They are fascinated with dragons. Rightly so, to my thinking, given the splendor of our appearance and the extent of our powers.”

  “But I’ve never seen a dragon before.”

  Draco chuckled, making the mountain shake. “How many times have you looked at this mountain?”

  “Every day.”

  The dragon turned slightly, the flames in his eyes dancing as he confronted Celo. “Then you’ve been looking at a dragon every day of your life. Just because you didn’t realize as much doesn’t mean I wasn’t here.” He lifted a brow. “Shall I tell the story?”

  “Yes, please. I am sorry.”

  Draco exhaled, a long thread of smoke rising from each of his nostrils. The tendrils entwined as they rose into the night sky, creating a twisting pattern that was mesmerizing. It reminded Celo of two dragons tails tangling together. “And so it was that dragons were created, and so it was that they claimed this galaxy as their home.”

  “Fiero-Four isn’t a galaxy...”

  “We didn’t originate here. Are you listening at all?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you know that every civilization that can see the cluster of stars of our home world has given it a name that refers to our kind? There is an awareness of our presence in the universe, in the dreams and visions of even those who have never seen us. In millions of cultures, we symbolize power, intelligence, and passion. And in all of those cultures, the fascination that people have for dragons is returned: dragons are equally fascinated with people.”

  Celo nodded and listened.

  “We mate very seldom and offspring were always rare. They became increasingly rare as our numbers diminished. On our home world, we lost habitat to species that breed more quickly, whose numbers grow at rapid rates. As later became a pattern, we were hunted, for it was seen that we used many resources individually, resources that could instead support entire towns. We were attacked also for our hoards, our accumulations of material goods that give us pleasure, material goods that shine and sparkle and often are considered valuable by other species, too. Our numbers dwindled more quickly on our home world, so we colonized others.

  “When the Fiero-Four system was deemed to possess suitable climactic conditions, we came here, to the planet that came to be known as Incendium. We were four in that first party, one for each element, as was the method of our colonization. In those days, Incendium was wild and lush, with bounty for all to share. Having learned the price of being outside the society of others, we mingled with the people here. We coexisted with them, proving ourselves useful, keeping our tempers in check, and for many eons, all was well.

  “Perhaps it is the nature of coexistence, but the mutual interest of humans in dragons and dragons in humans began to find expression in passion. Princesses were brought to us as gifts, as homage, as trinkets to give us pleasure. No one should be surprised that dragons and damsels found methods of mating. The children of such unions inherited from father and mother, the most hardy combination being a son who took human form but once grown to manhood, could take dragon form, too.

  “A dragon shifter,” Celo breathed. “The Draconis Mutatus.”

  Draco nodded. “The first were not in command of their change. Like the werewolves of legend, these weredragons were subject to the influence of the elements. They might be commanded by the phase of the moon or sun, or the surge of desire within them. They were closer to beasts and struck terror into human hearts for their unpredictability. On Incendium, they were kept as pets.”

  “What happened to your three fellows?”

  Draco visibly saddened. “I do not know. We lost the connection with each other. There was a great wave of revulsion for these weredragons in human society, because of their bursts of violence, which launched a familiar response. They were hunted and slaughtered, and we four strove to defend them as our offspring. Those who survived tried to hide their true nature, but often were unsuccessful. Still there were those humans who found the weredragons alluring, and sought them out, mating with them, creating yet more. The diminished proportion of dragon blood in these children stabilized the balance, but also cost many of them the ability to feel their fellows. We four lost our psychi
c connection with them.”

  “So, you couldn’t defend them, because you couldn’t find them.”

  Draco nodded. “And our bond with each other diminished, too. We disagreed on the course to follow and parted ways. It began with the one of us bound to the element of water. She had great empathy for all our descendants and could not bear to see them left to fend for themselves. She frequently risked her own welfare for others, and her silence made us fear she had been lost forever. Next, the one bound to the element of air disappeared from out awareness. Perhaps she was snared by a clever exchange of ideas, mixed with some enticing dreams. Perhaps she could not bear the thought of what we had become. The third and I retreated from human society together to ensure our own survival, but his connection was to fire. War drew him from the safety of our sanctuary and he could not resist a summons to defend our kind. I fear he may have died violently.”

  “Your affinity is with the earth,” Celo guessed.

  Draco nodded. “It gives me both patience and persistence, as well as the strength to wait a very long time. And so I was enchanted, by a young king who had no patience with my kind and no tolerance of my presence in the realm he sought to command.”

  “Surely you could have defeated him?”

  “To what end? I was alone, separated from my kind or perhaps the last to survive. I was tired and feared a new age had dawned. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to watch either. I let him enchant me.”

  “You let yourself be made powerless?”

  Draco chuckled. “I’ve never been powerless. If I was, they would have built a city upon the flanks of the mountain I became. No, I knew that every spell can be broken, that it will be broken in time. I was prepared to wait. It is no accident that I became stone.”

  Celo nodded, understanding that Draco’s affinity had both shaped the outcome of the spell and allowed him to survive it. “Tell me more about the shifters.”

  “As I said, over time, with the lineage of particularly bold human partners, the hybrid species stabilized. The addition of more humans to the mix meant that these shifters could change shape when they chose to do so. Their place in society changed then, as well—they became slaves instead of pets, their passion for their mates and kin used to keep them in check despite their greater physical strength.”