Dawn of Legend: Dragon Dusk Book 1 (Dragon Shifter Romance) Read online

  Tristan carried me into the house where the noise of our entrance brought Chloe out of the hall. She hurried over to us as Tristan set me down. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “Did Gwill inform you to remain inside?” Tristan asked her.

  She gave a nod. “He did, but he didn’t say why.”

  “A mud golem tried to squish us into mud pies in the garden,” I told her as I half-turned to Tristan. “But Tristan took care of it.”

  Chloe blinked up at him. “But how did it get that far?”

  “That’s what Gwill and I must find out,” Tristan commented as he stepped back to the door and lay his hand on the handle. “Both of you remain inside until we return. Do you understand?”

  Chloe nodded, but I stepped up to him. “But I want to help.”

  Tristan set a hand on my shoulder and smiled down at me. “Rest and practice summoning nature, though inside the house.”

  I looked around at the furniture and walls. “Can I do it in here?”

  Tristan sported a sly smile as he opened the door and stepped out. “Try and see.” He shut the door behind him.

  I crossed my arms and frowned at the entrance. “That’s not fair to leave me hanging like that.”

  “I’m sure Lord Tristan only wishes to encourage you,” Chloe suggested as she gestured to the hall. “But would you like something to eat? Or maybe to drink?”

  I licked my lips that had been parched by the sudden fire show. “Actually, a drink would be nice.”

  Chloe led me into the kitchen and poured me a glass of water. I leaned my back against the kitchen counter and looked around at the room. “You know, I haven’t seen all of this house.” I looked to Chloe and smiled at her. “Do you think you could show me around?”

  Chloe nodded. “I’d be very glad to!”

  Together we visited all the rooms in the wonderful house. There was the library I had already seen and my own bedroom, but there was also the other guest rooms and a rather spacious attic underneath the tall roof. However, there was only one bathroom, and I couldn’t help but notice that pristine modernity of it compared to the old-fashioned styles of the furniture in the other rooms.

  We had looked over all the rooms and were returning to the kitchen when I noticed a door in the hall that we hadn’t opened. I was behind Chloe, and stopped to test the knob. Locked. “What’s in here?” I called to her.

  Chloe paused and half-turned to me. A little of the color left her cheeks. “That’s the basement, but you wouldn’t want to go down there.”

  Her assumption piqued my curiosity. “Why not?”

  “There’s only wine racks and some old crates from when Lord Tristan first moved in,” she told me as she turned her face away from me. “Nothing other than those and cobwebs. Now I should get lunch started.”

  Chloe hurried down the hall and took a sharp turn into the kitchen. I glanced down at the immovable knob and pursed my lips. Still, there was nothing to do with a locked door other than to step away, and this I reluctantly did.

  I was helping Chloe make sandwiches when I opened a cupboard for plates. A dark face popped out of the shadows and our noses nearly touched. “Is lunch ready?” Gwill teased.

  I screamed and stumbled back only to fall on my rear. Chloe stomped over to the cupboard and slammed the door shut. The plates rattled, but the wood went straight through Gwill’s incorporeal form. He floated out of the cupboard and crossed his legs under him as he hovered around us.

  “Is that any way to greet your protector?” he teased Chloe.

  Chloe wagged a finger at him. “A protector doesn’t give those they protect a heart pain.”

  I sat up, but a pair of arms looped under mine and effortlessly lifted me onto my feet. I looked over my shoulder and found myself staring into the smiling face of Tristan. “Are you okay?” he asked me as he released me.

  “I’m fine,” I assured him as I brushed myself off.

  “You shouldn’t have done that!” Chloe continued to scold the indifferent shadow.

  He shrugged. “I was just having a joke, like a little celebration.”

  I tilted my head to one side and arched an eyebrow. “A celebration for what?”

  “We didn’t find a single hint of murderous mud,” Gwill announced as he floated around our little group.

  I looked up at Tristan. “Then do you know where it came from?”

  Tristan shook his head. “No, and that’s most unfortunate.”

  “Maybe it’s better to just leave well enough alone,” Gwill recommended as he drifted toward the windows that looked out on the lawn. “You don’t want to be inviting more trouble than we usually have.”

  Tristan frowned at him. “That’s enough.”

  Gwill shrugged as he floated through the glass. “All right, all right. If anyone needs me I’ll be shadowing myself underneath the trees.” He slipped through the window and disappeared into the shadows.

  I caught Tristan’s gaze. “‘More trouble than we usually have?’” I repeated.

  “Being a dierth and an athrylis is not without its difficulties,” he pointed out.

  “Lunch is ready,” Chloe reminded me as she pulled the plates out of the cupboard.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have some letters to write,” Tristan spoke up as he bowed to us. He strode from the room.

  I watched him leave as Chloe walked toward the dining room. “Does he ever eat?”

  Chloe paused beside the doorway. “Very rarely, but would you like to sit down?”

  My gaze settled on a small table beside the island with two chairs. “Why don’t we eat in here?”

  Chloe smiled, but shook her head. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to eat with me.”

  I marched over to her, set my hands on her shoulders, and guided her over to the table. “Any company is better than no company, and there’s nothing wrong with you,” I insisted before I took the plates and set the table with them. “So what say we eat together?”

  Chloe’s cheeks bloomed with color and her eyes sparkled as she nodded. “I’d like that very much!”

  Together we ate a lively meal of sandwiches and conversation, and I regaled her with stories of the technological advances of my world.

  “So these ‘cars’ are very fast horses?” she guessed.

  “Only mechanical,” I corrected her.

  “I have heard there are such things in Laethion, but powered by steam and not this ‘electricity’ you speak of,” she mused.

  I finished my last sandwich and leaned back from the table with contentment in my stomach. “I guess I’ll see if I can’t try some magic. Would you like to watch me?”

  Chloe stood and shook her head. “I would dearly love to, but I must do some chores.”

  “Then I won’t keep you,” I assured her as I rose to my feet.

  During the tour of the house I had seen no larger room to do magic than the library. I slipped through one of the doors and into that spacious room with its warm sunlight flowing in through the many windows. The clean, smooth binds of the countless books shone back at me as though winking at me as I pushed away some of the lighter furniture and made a small area for myself.

  I positioned myself firmly atop one of the many large rugs and stretched my arms in front of me. The times before I’d kept my eyes closed, but this time I wanted to see the magic. This time I focused all my thoughts on the sunlight that drifted into the room. Like a child experimenting with the world for the first time, I wondered what I could form from the abundance of natural magic that surrounded me.

  My eyes widened as I watched shimmering strands form in the palms of my cupped hands. They were ribbons of sunlight that twisted and spun around one another in tight, leisurely paths that reminded me of a gentle river. Their smooth bodies warmed my hands and the heat traveled up my arms like a heated blanket.

  I eased my hands toward an angle and the strands turned with them, but flickered as though the movement threatened to blow out their light. Anot
her little bit of tilt and the strands completely vanished.

  “Damn it. . .” I muttered as I refocused my attention on the sunlight.

  The strands reappeared hovering above my hands, but they were fewer and smaller than the last ones. I squinted my eyes and focused harder, but they refused to grow.

  A pair of long arms stretched along either side of mine and the hands pressed themselves against the back of mine. A shadow fell over me and I whipped my head up to find myself staring into Tristan’s smiling face.

  “I told you not to force it,” he scolded me.

  I frowned. “But I’m not.”

  He looked to our left and nodded at something near the doors. “Look there.”

  I followed his gaze and saw that he indicated a large plant situated beside the door. Many of the leaves were shriveled, and some had fallen to the floor. My eyes widened as I watched one of the leaves change from green to yellow, and then float to the ground.

  19

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the decrepit plant, and my voice shook. “Did. . .did I do that?”

  “Yes. That is the price nature pays when you try to force its power into you,” he explained.

  I looked up at him. “Can I fix it?”

  He shook his head. “Only time and a tender hand can return its vitality.” My shoulders drooped and I hung my head. “However, I will show you how you can feel if you’re forcing the power from nature.”

  He pressed his hands tighter against the back of mine and pressed his front against my back. My mind turned to thoughts much less pure than his intentions.

  “Focus,” he whispered to me. His smooth, velvety voice didn’t help, but I took a deep, shuddering breath and focused my sight on my hands.

  Nothing appeared in my hands, and I shook my head. “It won’t come unless I force it.”

  “Your fear holds you back,” he scolded me. “Don’t be afraid to harness the magic offered by nature.”

  “It might help if you tell me what I’m supposed to be feeling so I don’t accidentally kill another of your house plants,” I pointed out.

  “A stream.”

  I blinked up at him. “Come again?”

  “The flow of the magic is like a stream flowing around you,” he explained as he swept his eyes over the room. “The stillness and artificiality in this room will allow you to focus on the few strands of magic that flow through its walls.”

  “You mean there’s less magic in houses because there’s less nature?” I guessed.

  He nodded. “Yes. The walls, though crafted from nature, are barriers to the natural flow of magic. That’s why in all of the schools for athrylis you’ll find a large courtyard, and in the larger academies there are many open-roofed rooms where individuals can practice their arts.”

  “So there are schools for athrylis?” I asked him.

  Tristan smiled down at me. “Yes, but I will be teacher enough for you. That is, if you would focus.”

  I nodded and stared ahead. My hands trembled a little, but with a deep breath I willed them to stop moving. I relaxed the rest of my body and looked at the far back wall as though I was staring off into space.

  “Not too relaxed,” came Tristan’s voice through my foggy mind.

  I nodded and cupped my hands a little tighter together. My eyes caught something out of the corner of my eye, like a shadow but one that moved against the natural sunlight. I stiffened, but Tristan pressed against me, comforting me with his warmth and presence.

  He leaned down and his hot breath wafted over my ear. “Don’t be afraid. Those are merely the flows of magic being brought forth into your sight. Focus a little more and you’ll see them more clearly.”

  I took a deep breath again and allowed my mind to focus on a single fixed point ahead of me. It was a large tome with unfamiliar writing on the spine. As I watched that book, shimmers of flowing light like the strands I once held floated past. They were like ghosts, unaware of our presence as they floated throughout the room. The strands came more into focus and I could see them fly through the walls, but with some difficulty, like watching someone try to squeeze through a space almost too small for them. They could easily float through the furniture, and was deeply attracted to the few plants that dotted the room.

  The strands were never-ceasing in their movements, but their sizes and shapes changed. They were ribbons one moment, and then a thick wave would flow along their length that morphed them into wide waves or skinny strings. The colors, too, shifted like emotions. Bright colors were replaced by dull ones and vice versa, like a tapestry that was forever changing.

  “Wow,” I breathed as one of the threads skimmed over my hands.

  The strand dipped down into my palms and a flicker of magic like sparks appeared, but only lasted a moment. The thread moved on, a little different color and appearance than before its contact with me.

  “That is the flow of the magic, and its gift to you are the fine dust the ancients called methrina,” Tristan explained.

  My voice came out in a hushed whisper. “What does that mean?”

  “Cherished.”

  I looked up at him with a puzzled look. “Why that word?”

  “The elfennau-you would know them better as elements-bestow their gifts on only a few mortals, and that number has dwindled a great deal over the last few centuries,” he revealed as he watched a strand drift close by his head. “They consider we athrylis as their children, and thus grant us their power that we might protect ourselves against the darkness in the world.”

  A strand floated by my face and brushed against my cheek. The beautiful light graced my cheek with a sensation like a sweet, tender kiss before it flowed away.

  “This is. . .this is wonderful,” I breathed as I watched the strands dance around us. I leaned my head back to look up at Tristan. “Can I always see the magic now?”

  He shook his head. “Not always. The darkest reaches of the world hide their ancient magic before they deem the athrylis worthy of their gifts. Others are much smaller, too small to see, and then there are others larger than you can imagine.”

  I smiled up at him. “That sounds beautiful.”

  He nodded. “It is a sight to behold. Now focus your attention on one of the strands and let its gift flow into you.”

  I returned my attention to the magic and focused on the strand that had kissed me. The silky beam of light floated down to me and ghosted across my palms. The sparks from before reappeared, but this time they formed into a bright white ball that pulsed with heat.

  An unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, instinct whispered in my mind’s ear. I closed my eyes and parted my hands. The ball’s energy exploded outward and swept over us as Tristan’s had done earlier in the garden, engulfing us in a wonderful flow of comfort, though the color was white instead of the fire-red.

  The warmth faded and I opened my eyes. The strong feeling of protection was gone from both myself and Tristan. I turned around to find he was at the door to the library. His back was turned to me, but I could tell he was tense.

  “You must excuse me,” he whispered in a hoarse voice as he set a gloved hand on the door frame. “I’m not feeling well, and feel I must retire for a time.”

  I took a step toward him and stretched out my hand to him. “Maybe I could help you-”

  “No!”

  I started back and grasped the front of my shirt with my scorned hand. “Was it something I did?”

  He shook his head. “No. On the contrary-” He paused and his hand tightened its grip on the frame. “If you’ll excuse me.” He hurried from the room, not forgetting to shut the door behind himself.

  My heart sank and I looked down at my hand. A few whispered words left my parted lips. “What did I do?”

  That thought nagged me the rest of the day as afternoon passed into evening. There was no sign of Tristan at dinner as I was served alone.

  “Where’s Tristan?” I asked Chloe.

  She paused in setting down a dish and purse
d her lips. “He told me he needed to retire for the rest of the day, so I think he’s sleeping.”

  I looked down at my half-finished plate and pushed some of the food around. “I see.”

  “Would you like to me light the fire in your room? It might be chilly tonight,” she offered.

  I pushed my plate away and stood. “No, it’s fine. I think I’ll go to sleep, too.”

  “Goodnight,” Chloe called to me as I left the room.

  I grasped the railing and trudged up the stairs to the second floor. At the landing I paused and looked down the hall. Tristan’s room was situated a little farther down the hall from mine. I walked down the passage and rapped on the door.

  “Tristan?” I called out. “Are you okay?” There was no answer. I tried the knob. The door gave way and I peeked my head inside. “Tristan?”

  The room was much like mine except for a larger bed without the posts. Like the rest of the room, the bed was empty. I walked over and brushed the tips of my fingers against the covers as I walked to the head. There wasn’t any sign that he’d ever went to sleep.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  I yelped and spun around to find Gwill floating behind me. His eyes were sharp and narrowed, and his form was tense as he floated around me. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

  “I-I was just looking for Tristan to see if he was okay,” I explained.

  “He’s gotten along fine without you looking after him for a lot longer than you can imagine,” Gwill mused as he paused his floating at my side and studied me. “And he’ll probably get along just fine when you’re long gone.”

  I spun around to face him and glared at the shade. “Why do you hate me?”

  “Maybe you’re just a person to hate,” he mused as he floated away. His figure began to fade into the deepening darkness as the last rays of the sun set. The shadow’s last few words faded into the blackness as his body did the same. “Or maybe you’re a person to fear. . .”

  “Fear?” I repeated as his eyes disappeared. I stretched out my arm to him and stumbled forward. “Wait a minute! Why would anyone fear me?”