Dragon Magic: Lyric's Curse 2 (Dragonblood Sagas Book 4) Read online

  DRAGON MAGIC

  STONEBLOOD SAGAS BOOK 4

  Dragon Magic© copyright 2017 Robyn Wideman

  Published: May 2017

  Publisher: Magicblood Media Corp

  Dragon Magic is the 4th book in the Dragonblood Sagas. It is a continuation of the Lyric’s Curse storyline and can be read before or after books 2 and 3 which follow the Sisera’s Gift storyline.

  Hope you enjoy ??

  Robyn.

  1

  Lyric woke with a pain in the neck. The couch in Sibylle’s living quarters was comfortable to sit on, but it made a less than perfect sleeping surface. Lyric glanced around the room. The Lamar family was wealthy and the décor of the quarters reflected that. It was a far cry from the orphanage and the streets of Winport where he’d grown up. Although his childhood was filled with poverty, lack of food, and regular beatings by the boys of Winport there was a simplicity to his old life. He only had to survive. Now his life was so much more complicated.

  Today was the first day of his new life. He’d won the tournament and his prize was the hand of Sibylle Lamar. A prize meant for one of the rich young lords of the kingdom. But to help save his friend from an unwanted marriage, Lyric had entered the tournament. He’d never expected to win, and wouldn’t have it if weren’t for his new powers.

  Dragonblood, thought Lyric. Like his father before him, Lyric carried the mark of the dragon. He’d never truly believed he was special, even when Azina Vastel rescued him and told him of his true identity. But now dragons have been sighted and he had changed there was no denying the fact he was different, that he was Dragonblood.

  “Whatever the heck that means,” grumbled Lyric as he stood up.

  “Oh. You’re awake,” said Sibylle as she entered the room.

  Lyric turned his head sideways until he could hear a popping sound. “Barely.”

  “You didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” said Sibylle.

  “I know, I just needed to be by myself.”

  “And you couldn’t do that in the spare room?” asked Sibylle.

  Lyric’s cheeks flushed. Okay maybe he had been a little stubborn. But this whole marriage thing was so new, and his feelings for Celine made it even more complicated. “Perhaps I was a bit rash,” admitted Lyric.

  “It’s okay. I understand. I know you are uncomfortable with the marriage and I don’t blame you. It isn’t great for me either, but I am thankful you won the tournament. The alternative would be marrying Talon Horne.”

  Talon Horne, an arrogant, brutish lord was the man Lyric had defeated to win Sibylle’s hand. The man was an ass. Lyric had taken immense pleasure in defeating him. No matter how complicated the marriage was, Lyric was glad to save her from that despicable oaf. “Trust me. I am glad you didn’t have to marry him either. I enjoyed beating him.”

  “It was incredible how you beat him. You move so fast now. Every time I look into your eyes it reminds me how different you are now. I wonder what other powers you might have?”

  “I have no idea,” said Lyric. “I will have to go and talk with Azina. I haven’t had a chance since the change. Yesterday was hectic. Do you think there will be time for me to go talk to her today?”

  Sibylle smiled. “Of course, you can do whatever you like.”

  “I just thought there might be certain obligations, now I am your husband. What would the king expect? What would your father expect?”

  Sibylle’s smile disappeared. “To hell with what the king thinks. It is his fault we are in this situation anyways. If he’d minded his own damn business instead of worrying about how to control my father’s lands through one of his cronies there wouldn’t have been a tournament. As for my father, leave him to me. I think he’s finally seen the king’s true colors. He wasn’t pleased with how things have gone.” Sibylle paused for a moment. “I do believe my father has invited a few of the lords to stay longer. It would be good if you were there for dinner this evening.”

  Lyric nodded. “I will be there.”

  “And promise me one thing,” said Sibylle.

  “What is that?” asked Lyric.

  “You will spar with me tomorrow. I want to see how fast you are myself. However, I am still sore from yesterday and you should go see Azina.”

  Lyric smiled. Sparring with Sibylle had been the best part of training for the tournament. While many might suspect the daughter of a rich lord couldn’t fight, Lyric knew better. Come to think of it, the whole kingdom would know it now. She’d almost won her own tournament, losing only to Talon Horne. She was a skilled warrior and had helped develop his own skills. “Yes, tomorrow we can spar.”

  “Good. Now let’s go have breakfast,” said Sibylle.

  At the mention of breakfast Lyric’s tummy started to rumble. “I could eat.”

  To avoid any of the other guests who’d accepted the Lamar’s hospitality for the tournament, Sibylle took Lyric directly to the kitchen. They both raided the kitchen in silence. Lyric enjoyed the fruit and fresh bread. It wasn’t as good as the bread he would steal from the bakery back in Winport, but there were no burnt bits to throw away and he didn’t have to share with the crows either.

  The silence between him and Sibylle was bordering between comfortable and tense. He was glad they were talking and could share breakfast together, but at the same time he felt guilty. He was supposed to be her husband. But his heart belonged to Celine, it was an impossible situation. The only worse scenario would’ve been Talon Horne winning the tournament. Lyric was glad the arrogant young lord was no longer a problem.

  …

  “A gods be damned Dragonblood.” Talon fumed as he and his father sat in their tent while servants packed and prepared to head back to the family estate. “All of our plans ruined.”

  Lord Tyree looked over at his young son. The boy was a strong warrior and ambitious. He pushed the boy hard, but one day it would be worth it. The hate his son held for him would push him to achieve more than he had. The family legacy depended on it, and hate and anger accomplished more than love when it came to developing a boy into a true lord. It had been a good plan. His son was one of the best swordsmen on the isle and if it weren’t for that damn foreign boy with his dragon powers they would now have control of some of the most important lands in all the kingdom. But all was not lost.

  Talon stood up. “I’m getting my horse. The sooner I leave this place the better.”

  “Sit down,” said Lord Tyree. “We’re not done here yet.”

  Talon’s eyebrows furrowed as he scowled at his father. He bit his tongue to stop from saying something he might later regret. He sat down and gave his father a questioning look.

  “This was a battle lost, not a war,” said the older Horne.

  “The boy is now the husband. What more can we do?” asked Talon, his curiosity aroused.

  “King Gramalt is unhappy. He might not favor us, but he certainly didn’t want the Lamar estates going to some unknown foreign boy. That and the uncertainty of dragons returning has him worried. He will be looking at young Lyric as a possible enemy. If King Gramalt thinks Lyric wants to be ruler of Droll because he is dragonblood then the king may act against him.”

  “So how do we get the king to see things our way?” asked Talon.

  Tyree smiled. His son was now attentively listening to his every word. Gone were the scowls and pouts of one who’d suffered an embarrassing defeat. Now Talon was focused on revenge and advancing their position. “You will head into the town of Middale. Find us a local ally. Someone who thinks like us when it comes to damn foreigners like this Lyric Finch boy. The more information we ha
ve on him the better. After that, I want you to go to Winport. Find out everything you can about him.”

  Talon nodded. “I will head to Middale right away. No one would be surprised to see me heading to the nearest town to drown my sorrows. Surely, I will find someone in the local bar who thinks like us.”

  “Just be careful. The bartender helped train the boy,” warned Lord Tyree.

  “I shall be gracious in defeat when the wrong ears are listening,” said Talon with a cynical smile.

  “Good. I shall head to Wilmborne. I will find allies and start working on King Gramalt. This dragon business will have him in a dither. I will make sure his angst is focused on the foreign bastard who he just married into the royal bloodlines. He will be furious.”

  Talon nodded. “As long as the boy dies,” he said. “No one beats me and lives.”

  Lord Tyree smiled. Yes, his boy was going to be a fine king one day. “Yes. The dragonblood boy must die.”

  2

  “Boss, you are not going to believe who just walked into Harlot Heaven,” said Myer Breed, panting as he barged into Jobe’s office.

  Jobe Hollow, looked up from his paperwork, Myer was a low-level associate, but the man was reliable. If he was this worked up he had a reason. “Are you going to tell me, or not?”

  “It’s that woman those Sacred Blood freaks are looking for,” said Myer Breed. “She’s sitting alone at a table drinking. I think she’s waiting for someone. I was with Stinky Brown when we spotted her. I left him to watch her and came to you right away.”

  Shayla Finch, thought Jobe. Well, that was worth being barged in on for. “Excellent work, Myer.”

  “You want me to send for the Valkor brothers?” asked Myer.

  The Valkor brothers, Jobe’s best bone breakers were thugs of unique talents. Exceptional killers; assassination and intimidation was there specialty. Jobe scratched his jaw, it was a good idea. The Sacred Blood had warned she was dangerous, but one woman alone? How dangerous could she be. “No, it would take them too long to get here. Gather a half dozen men and get to the Harlot’s Haven. I don’t want her leaving there alive. Harlot’s Heaven was more public than Jobe Hollow liked for murder, but the price was right. The Sacred Blood wanted her dead and if he was responsible they would provide the weapons he was desperate to get. When they weren’t trampling all over the world searching for dragonbloods, the Sacred Blood were some of the best arms dealers in all the world. To defeat dragons, the Sacred Blood designed and built weapons as creative as they were deadly. It always amazed Jobe Hollow that such single-minded fanatics were capable of such exquisite creation.

  Jobe stood up. He would supervise this himself. “Get the men and get to the bar. I will be there.” Jobe opened his desk and pulled out the spare throwing knives he kept in there. He didn’t expect to get involved, but this was too important to leave to the men.

  Myer Breed took off running. It wouldn’t take him long to find men. There was always at least a half dozen men at the warehouse. Hard men, they were a rag tag combination of mercenaries, thieves, and murderers, Jobe had broken out of Oxvein’s prisons. Jobe Hollow had once been thrown in jail for murder. The charges hadn’t stuck as Jobe’s associates paid off the judge, but the experience had taught Jobe a valuable lesson. Prison was filled with dangerous and desperate men, who would kill their own mothers to get out. Breaking them out of prison gained him a small army of loyal killers. Sure, some of them couldn’t be trusted, and a few had disappeared the first opportunity they had, but the rest? The rest were worth their weight in gold for a man with plans like Jobe had.

  However, those plans needed weapons to go with his small army of thugs. Jobe didn’t have the money he needed for a large supply of Sacred Blood weapons, but now the gods had given him the opportunity he was looking for. The Sacred Blood wanted Shayla Finch dead. Jobe didn’t know much about the woman, didn’t care either. All she was to him was a means to an end. He would lose no sleep about arranging her death.

  Entering Harlot Heaven, Jobe didn’t look around. He just walked up to the bar and order a bottle and a glass. While the bartender grabbed his bottle, Jobe casually turned around and surveilled the bar. It was midafternoon and the evening crowd, mine workers and other assorted ruffians, wasn’t in yet. Half of the bar’s tables were empty. Jobe spotted the woman, she was sitting with a woman now, but it was her. The Sacred Blood had provided a drawing of the woman and the picture had been shown to every member of Job’s gang. It was a good likeness of the woman. There was no doubt about it. This was Shayla Finch. Jobe practically salivated as he thought about the weapons supply he’d receive from the Sacred Blood if they killed her.

  Taking his bottle and glass, Jobe went to the opposite side of the bar from where she was sitting. No need to arouse her suspicions before Myer could round up the men. Jobe sat down and poured himself a drink. This was going to be good!

  …

  Shayla drank the bar’s whiskey. It was barely adequate, but she wasn’t worried about the whiskey. One didn’t come into Harlot Heaven expecting high quality. The Harlot, named after the original owner, a working girl who’d saved up enough money to buy her own place, was a working man’s bar. It wasn’t the kind of place you’d find a noble or anyone associated closely to King Harn.

  It had been only a few days since the attack on Oakenreach Estates. The attack by the Sacred Blood had cost her Braylon Gaines. They were also responsible for her father’s death. Shayla had only survived the attack because a dragon, her dragon, had flown over. The proximity to the dragon triggered Shayla’s dragon powers. Shayla had never seen her dragon before, but she knew one thing, the dragon possessed the power of fire. Shayla had used that same dragon magic to torch and kill every Sacred Blood she could find in the estate. She’d stopped the attack, saving most of the house staff, but Braylon had died defending her.

  Now, when Shayla was at Oakenreach all she could think of was death, so she decided it was time to get out of Oakenreach for a while. Whiteridge, the city she was now staying in, was a border city. It was a city that had once been part of the southern Kingdom of Vora. Twice it had been conquered by the Kingdom of Oxvein, and twice it had been liberated by Vora. Now, neither kingdom was strong enough to declare the city its own. Whiteridge was now neutral ground. It was filled with supporters of both kingdoms, but the majority of its citizens didn’t care which kingdom laid claim. If the mines and lumber mills were operational the city was content. Shayla knew King Harn had intentions of reclaiming Whiteridge, but the king was rather incompetent.

  It was her dislike for the king that made Shayla choose to visit Whiteridge. Before things went crazy with the Sacred Blood, Shayla had been plotting against the king. With her own royal bloodlines, Shayla had intended to become a queen once she found her dragon. A dragonblood of royal bloodlines could rule all of Partha. All three of its kingdoms joined into one under her leadership. It had been a vain and power hungry plan, but it would’ve worked. Now, Shayla was less certain of what her future held. She had gained dragon magic, but she’d lost Braylon and her father. Hurt and rage filled her now, it replaced her lust for power and left her feeling dissatisfied.

  Whiteridge, besides being neutral territory was home to Lady Primula Wells. Primula was an old friend and a co-conspirator. Primula wanted Shayla to conquer Partha and was willing to back her play, offering men and money. Two things Shayla would need if she indeed followed through on her plan.

  “Shayla, you look like hell,” said Primula as she came and sat down across from her.

  Shayla offered up a small smile. Primula was never one to pull punches. “I feel like hell.”

  “I’ve heard some terrible things. How bad are things at Oakenreach?”

  So much for pleasant small talk. Perhaps it would be better to just get all the negative things out in the open. Outside of Braylon and her father, who she’d only started to appreciate after it was too late, Shayla didn’t have anyone she could unload her burdens on. “Well, l
et’s see, I’ve been kidnapped, tortured, rescued by the man I love, found out my father was being poisoned then he died as well. Then I was attacked again, and Braylon was killed. Everyone I loved is dead. You are the closest thing I have to a friend and I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.” The last part wasn’t true. Primula was a friend, and she did trust her, but insults were part of their friendship.

  “How terrible,” said Primula. “I’m sorry about Braylon, and it is awful that you were tortured. Was it the Sacred Blood?”

  Shayla nodded. “Joke’s on them though. Dragons are back. I’ve already started to bond with one.”

  “Really? That is perfect. All our plans hinged on you having a dragon under your control,” said Primula, the excitement in her voice obvious.

  “Yes, but the ring controlling a dragon story was a lie. Dragonbloods don’t control their dragons, it is more like a partnership.”

  “That is inconvenient. What if your dragon doesn’t care about politics? That would be a disaster.”

  “Even if my dragon cares not for politics, it matters little. I’ve gained powers already. I can make people fear me now, with or without my dragon,” said Shayla, her thoughts on the Sacred Blood and not gaining a throne.

  “As sorry as I am that you have gone though all you have, the timing of you gaining dragon magic can’t have come at a better time. King Harn is mustering his forces. I haven’t been able find out his intentions yet, but my spies are working on it.”

  Shayla frowned. King Harn was a fool. He wasn’t powerful enough to hold the southern lands, or the western for that matter. “Is Whiteridge ready in case he decides to attack the south.”

  “No, but there is little we can do here to prevent it. Whiteridge would be his staging grounds to attack further south, but I’m not sure the south is his target. He has been increasingly aggressive towards the Kingdom of Monet.”

  “Kingdom of Monet?” asked Shayla.