“Check your family histories again, Magnussen Heir.” Jarl Jorg pins Bjorn with his hawkish gaze, as intense knowledge glitters in his eyes. “Ever had someone in your family who was born weak of body, brittle of bone but incredibly strong in magic? I believe your own sister was one ofthose… a young Magnussen Bloodwalker killed before her time, because your father deemed her too weak.”
As Bjorn pales, I watch him simmer. I see him finally understand why his sister was unique—so strong in her magic, despite her frailty. He knows, deep down inside, that she was a Bloodwalker; I feel him churn now, as he understands why he felt so called to protect her all those years ago. I feel him wonder if his mother knew, when she found that precedent of ancient Magnussen battle-mages allowed to live because they were so massively strong in their power. Strong in magic, rather than their body.
Bloodwalker magic—a strength his father eliminated when he killed her.
“Do you think he knew, my father, when he killed Astrid?” Bjorn asks now as he watches Jarl Jorg.
“I do not know.” The Jarl shakes his head sadly. “Your father has always tried to solidify his power, though, Bjorn, in a way I’ve never liked. He throws his own family to the wolves, sacrificing your most powerful members in tremendous battles while he observes from afar. It would make sense to me he knew what she was, and used her malady as an excuse to kill her so she would never become a contender for his high seat. Much as he ousted you from the clan, the moment you beat him in battle. A story everyone who is anyone knows—that Bjorn, only son of Jarl Oggi Magnussen, should be on that Jarl’s seat, rather than him. A formidable drake who now does his time building honor in the King’s service, while the usurper rules at home.”
As silence falls, I see Jarl Jorg hold Bjorn’s gaze. Emotion wells up in Bjorn; though Bjorn doesn’t show it, the Jarl nods quietly to him.
Seeing him—and the place he should hold among his people.
“In any case, our family lines have had many Bloodwalkers, down through the ages.” Jarl Jorg glances at me, then Ström. “The original Knights remember the names of the Black Dragon Five, the Bloodwalkers who created that heinous creature and all the destruction it wrought. They were families who subsequently needed to be watched by saidKnights… lest anyone in their bloodlines become tempted to raise the Black Dragon again, wielding it like our ancestors did of old.”
“All our families have been watched by the Black Dragon Knights through the ages?” I ask now, scowling.
“The original Knights, yes.” Jarl Oggi nods as Annika does, as well.
“We are far smaller an organization than you think, youngling, the True Knights,” Annika says now as she glances at me. “Three hundred years after the Black Dragon was put to rest, the Knights became split on their agenda in Blood Dragondom. There were those who wished to rule all the Blood Dragons with an iron fist, watchful of every family and clan among us. There were also those who knew we need only watch the families of the Black Dragon Five… who had to be observed and guided, so none were ever tempted to pursue a vendetta in the world. And unleash the Black Dragon again… the scourge of us all.”
“The True Black Dragon Knights, as we call ourselves,” Jarl Jorg glances at us, “number only thirty individuals. Those who call themselves the Black Dragon Knights, and whom I know all three of you are sworn to, number some five hundred strong between their Council and all the cells they keep hidden from each other. We know who they are, and keep tabs on them. In their ruling of Blood Dragondom from the shadows, however, they miss the most important reason we were created, long ago—to stop the Black Dragon, should it ever rise again. And to keep anyone from the Five Families from wielding it… if anyone is ever tempted to do so.”
“Someone is wielding it now,” I say darkly, knowing there is somebody behind that monstrous creature’s return to the world who is now controlling it to do their will.
“Someone, orsomeones,” Jarl Jorg nods. “For us True Knights have not been able to determine just who exactly unearthed it and have been manipulating it to do their will. Maryse Allbright was close on their trail; though she was Head Matriarch of the false Knights, her heart was true. She knew where disaster lay and was trying to thwart it; we were about toinduct her into our order and tell her everything she was already discovering, so we could share information, when she was suddenly killed. We come to a dire part of our story now, though: a part that involves you three, directly. For by entering the sacred death-city ofUnhaemmerten, and desecrating that altar which should have lain forever undisturbed, you have done a very great ill to our world. You did not know it, but the souls of the original Black Dragon Five were contained there in that place. Because of the altar’s breaking, they have been liberated… to rejoin the undead bones of the Black Dragon itself. Giving it mind, power, and flesh once more. And a will of its own—to destroy us all. Just like it did in ancient times.”
As Jarl Jorg’s pronouncement comes, I feel it hit me like a ton of bricks. I know, deep in my heart, as both my dragons roar a terrible death-knell inside me, that I never should have touched that altar in the underground cathedral. That was a hallowed place, kept buried for a reason. That cathedral wasn’t buried because the devastation at Seerselen ruined it.
It was entombed beneath the ground with the dead on purpose.
Something so heinous, and so deadly, was locked away in there—sealed forever by the massive wards that kept the altar secure—that it never should have been released. Something beyond terrible was secured there by the ancient Black Dragon Knights, and we unleashed it by breaking the altar’s seal.
I know now, as a horrified feeling engulfs me, it was the souls of the Black Dragon Five we released in that awful malevolent energy and those four dragon-wights.
Returning to the Black Dragon, to give it true life.
At last.
12
TALES
As Jarl Jorg reveals to Ström, Bjorn, and me what was truly buried in that underground cathedral inUnhaemmerten, we go silent. I feel all three of us pale, as we share the realization through our bond that we single-handedly returned the Black Dragon to its full strength by breaking the seal on that altar and unleashing the vast energy of the Black Dragon Five that filled it.
Horror consumes me; horror and shock at what we’ve done, as my bright drakaina gnashes her teeth inside me and wails. My black dragon of night rises up, swamping her as an icy silence fills me now, like graves. Though Jarl Jorg is calm as he watches us, I have no idea why he’s not beheading us right now.
Considering his ancient mission as one of the True Black Dragon Knights.
“Why are we not dead right now?” Bjorn voices my thought now as the same awfulness fills him. “Why haven’t you killed all three of us for unleashing the souls of the Black Dragon Five that were trapped there… and returning the Black Dragon to its fullest might?”
“I couldn’t just kill my great-grandson and Jarl-Heir out of hand, nowcould I?” Jarl Jorg smiles, but his look is far harder than that, as the raptor-keen side of his nature pins us. “In truth, though our order found out about what had been done soon after it happened, thanks to our ancient wards on that place, something stopped me from coming up to Magnussen lands and killing you three myself. I had to ask myself: why in all that’s holy wouldmyincredible, good-hearted great-grandson partake in such an evil venture? With everything I know of Bjorn, and you also, Rikyava, I understood that you three are champions of our kind, though you have all experienced great hardship. I could not understand why a trio such as yours would want to unleash hell on earth. I concluded you didn’t—and that you were actually trying to stop the Black Dragon and did not know what you had done. Else, all three of you would be dead right now. By my talons, ripping out your hearts.”
“I believe it,” I say, knowing full well Jarl Jorg has the might to do it.
A clean, swift death—rather than the endless punishment of Jarl Oggi.
“In any case,” Annika adds, “you three are not diabolical schemers, but rash youngsters in love. Your kind would only act in such a dire manner to help each other, so we surmised you had been told to go there under false pretense. That someone else encouraged you, and said you would find power there.”
