The Drake Of Ehknac (The Adventures of Carmen Delarosa Book 1) Read online

  The Adventures of Carmen Delarosa:

  Carmen Delarosa and the Drake of Ehknac

  Kody Boye

  The Drake of Ehknac

  The Adventures of Carmen Delarosa, #1

  by Kody Boye

  Copyright © 2015. All Rights Reserved

  Cover art by Philip R. Rogers

  Copyedited by Laura Quick

  Formatting by Kody Boye

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronically, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the proper written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

  Prologue

  The Year 1714

  “Are we there yet?” the little boy asked.

  “Shh,” Carmen replied, drawing the covers around him. “Go back to sleep.”

  The Dwarfling—who, at only five, had a tendency to argue about everything—opened his mouth as if to respond, but only yawned before closing his eyes.

  Carmen sighed.

  She couldn’t blame him. After traveling for nearly twenty days, she was ready to be home too.

  It didn’t help that they’d just entered the most perilous part of their journey.

  The route from their hometown of Ehknac to the bustling capital of Dorenborough was not one taken lightly. A thirty-day journey at the least, it began with harrowing sections of claustrophobic tunnel travel in nearly pitch-black darkness. Once free of those passages, they were subjected to cliffside paths—which, though well-travelled, were not safe. Predators were worry enough, as on wings and from high rock they could descend. Most nerve-wracking, however, were the drops.

  Though brilliant architects, the Dwarves had never gotten around to building safeguards.

  This was what Carmen feared the most.

  Here in the Hornblaris Mountains, where sheer drops could be found almost everywhere and cave-ins could happen at any time, it only took one false step to fall to your death.

  They said that, sometimes, you never stopped falling.

  That legend spoke most in their current location.

  Infinity Falls was the major route bridging the southeastern Hornblaris to the capital. Though swift compared to alternatives, it featured a massive chasm whose depths were unreachable, even with the most advanced of Dwarven machinations. It was said to be a home of Angels—wicked monsters with red eyes, white wings and giant claws—and an ecological paradise inundated with predators. But it was not these that Carmen feared.

  No.

  It was the chasm—looming, ominously, just beyond the walls of their family wagon—that inspired terror unlike any other.

  As a faint breeze parted the tapestries, Carmen burrowed into the blankets next to her brother and closed her eyes.

  If she fell—if anyone fell—then surely they would never reach the—

  A startled shout ripped her from her thoughts.

  “What’s the hold up!” one of the caravaners called, the grunt of a nearby pack boar seeming to back up his query.

  “I thought I saw something!” another Dwarf called back.

  “The spiders won’t bother us!” her mother, Madeline Delarosa, replied.

  “It wasn’t a spider!” the Dwarf called. “It—”

  Light flashed.

  Someone screamed.

  The smell of smoke filled the air.

  Carmen had just lifted her head to peer out the front of the wagon when a plume of flame engulfed her vision.

  “Drake!” someone screamed at the top of their lungs. “DRAKE!”

  “What’s going on?” her younger brother asked.

  “Stay down,” Carmen said.

  She tried to keep him down—tried to keep him from seeing the chaos of men and flame and the smoldering remains of an unfortunate boar—but to no avail. Tonomoto fought, stubborn as he was, and the moment his eyes fell upon the scene he screamed.

  She didn’t see it, at least not at first.

  Then its eyes, pale and yellow, appeared from the darkness.

  That was all it took for her world to shatter.

  “Get down!” she heard Madeline Delarosa cry as she drew a sword in one hand and slung an axe into another. “Protect the children!”

  “Get the boars!” another man cried. “Get the—”

  A roar of flame drowned him out.

  The pigs—trained to hold their ground even in the face of the most fearsome foe—could not withstand the test of fire.They tried to run—past the harrowing creature, around the men and women who had advanced to defend their caravan—and as such, some stumbled, breaking legs and sending wagons askew, while others flung their heads, attempting impossible retreat.

  A choice few simply panicked.

  The stag drawing the Delarosa wagon veered toward, then recoiled when it came face-to-face with the cliff.

  It happened so fast.

  A wheel splintered.

  The bonnet snapped apart.

  Tonomoto, so close to the sideboards that he could’ve rested his head upon them, was flung from the vehicle and into the chasm.

  Carmen could only scream as the floorboards collapsed beneath her.

  Though she hit the ground hard enough to drive the breath from her lungs and draw blood from her tongue, nothing could’ve compared to seeing her brother die.

  Tonomoto! she wanted to scream, but all that came out was blood.

  She struggled to draw breath as tears poured from her eyes and choked sobs echoed from her trembling lungs. Trapped beneath the wreckage of her family wagon, she could hardly move. Her legs were pinned, her arms numb. The only thing she could do was watch.

  Her mother was crushed beneath the creature’s claw, her father gutted almost instantly.

  Men and women ran to help—to combat the monster who, from the depths of hell, had risen to claim their lives—but it was no use.

  Through fire, claw, or tooth, all were laid waste. Even the pigs were killed without mercy.

  Soon, only Carmen remained.

  And though waiting for her own demise, it never came.

  Beneath the wreckage, Carmen could only watch as the monster turned, stalked toward the edge of the cliffside, and crawled back into the chasm.

  There was nothing she could do.

  Her mother, her father, Tonomoto—

  They were dead.

  Chapter 1

  The Year 1715

  She woke as she always did from those dreams—screaming.

  Alone, in bed in her family home in Ehknac, it took only a moment for the realization to set in.

  Nearly one year later, the dreams were still coming.

  They’re never going to stop, Carmen thought, fighting without success to keep from curling into as small a ball as possible.

  “Because there was nothing I could do,” she whispered. “Because I was trapped. Defenseless.”

  And shocked, she wanted to add, at seeing her entire family slaughtered, but knew the word would serve no purpose—because regardless of its truth, no amount of reasoning had ever assuaged her guilt.

  Sobbing, Carmen snared the sheets within her fists and opened her eyes.

  Though time seemed endless beneath the mountain, she knew, without a doubt,
that it was morning.

  My birthday, she thought. The day I turn twenty-one.

  The day she officially become a woman in the eyes of the Dwarven people.

  The thought that her family would not be there to celebrate destroyed her.

  - - -

  Coming-of-age was celebrated annually within the Dwarven community regardless of birthdate or season. As such, a sort of anonymity could be obtained should one wish to avoid attention, which Carmen fully intended on exploiting. Though she brushed her hair, cleaned her teeth, washed her face and dressed in the nicest clothes she owned, she ultimately resembled a shadow of her former self.

  This isn’t me, she thought as she stared into the mirror by candlelight, hating her perpetual frown and the lifeless look in her eyes. This is someone else.

  “A shadow,” she whispered.

  She couldn’t complain. Given her restless night, it was some small wonder that she’d rolled out of bed, let alone managed a decent appearance. If anything, she looked tired—run down, but tired.

  After checking to ensure she had her dagger, her coin purse, and any identification she might require, Carmen started toward the door.

  Ok, she thought, placing her hand on the handle. Here goes nothing.

  She stepped into the street and was immediately swept into the crowd.

  It was hard to imagine that a town like Ehknac could have so many people. It wasn’t small, by any means, but it was no cornucopia of civilization like Dorenborough, or even historical like Xandau or Hammeridge. It was a simple settlement that had sprung from the ground up: carved by necessity, helmed by merchants seeking access to the great world and nurtured by the simpler kind. Only a government holiday could incite such a crowd,which relieved her on one hand and wracked her with worry on the other.

  As the sole survivor of the Ehknacian caravan, she would likely be asked to speak. And even if by dumb luck she managed to avoid a public spectacle, she would still be required to submit documentation regarding her prospective career.

  Which meant standing in front of a crowd.

  Which meant meeting their eyes.

  Which meant speculation on how she’d survived when others hadn’t.

  Which meant—

  Carmen swallowed.

  Amidst her grief, she’d completely forgotten the Sisterhood would be in attendance.

  If Griffa Stonesinger so much as caught word of Carmen’s presence, she would have no choice but to—

  No.

  She couldn’t think about that, not when the mere thought of speaking to the woman made her blood boil.

  Rather than dwell on the possibilities, Carmen shook her head and continued forward.

  The morning air was alight with the sound of fireworks and the smell of barbecuing meats. As the crowd advanced toward the city center and heart of the festivities, the candor grew, and with it inhibitions fell. Children laughing, music playing, people singing, families beaming—all around the people of Ehknac rejoiced in something that to them brought unprecedented joy but, to a choice few, a horrible sense of loss. To her left Carmen saw a girl dancing, while to her right a little boy chased a piglet, weaving through the crowd and nearly causing an old lady to trip over her skirt as they barreled under it. A father pointed to the air, guiding an infant’s eyes to the phantasm of lights. Two sisters laughed. An elderly couple held hands.

  This wasn’t right.

  All this joy, all this laughter, all this great, audacious happiness—it shouldn’t exist. Not when so many families had died and with it the joy of those left behind.

  Be strong, her father would have said.

  “I’m trying, Daddy,” she whispered, reaching up to wipe a tear from her face. “I’m trying as hard as I can.”

  “Excuse me,” a small voice said.

  Carmen paused.

  Though it took a moment, she eventually found its owner--a little girl, standing against a nearby wall, arms clasped around a jar, eyes focused on Carmen’s every move.

  “Yes?” Carmen asked, unsure if she was the one being addressed.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine,” she replied. “Why?”

  “You were crying.”

  “I just had something in my eye,” Carmen laughed, then lifted a hand as if to brush away the imaginary dirt. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “You’re lying,” the little girl said.

  What?

  At first Carmen thought she’d spoken. The word—so clear in her mind—seemed to echo from her conscience and reverberate from the nearby stone like a mirror whose depths possessed only the most infallible of truths. When the little girl didn’t reply, however, and when her lips curled into a frown, Carmen stepped out of the street and to up her side.

  Of all the people to pick her out of a crowd...

  From the mouths of babes , she thought, reminded of the little brother who could always tell when something was wrong.

  The little brother who was dead.

  Gone.

  Falling.

  Sighing, Carmen crouched down and braced her hands against her knees.

  “So,” the Dwarfling began. “What’s wrong? Why were you crying?”

  “Do you remember the caravan that left Ehknac last year?” Carmen asked. “The one that never came back?”

  “The one that was attacked by a drake,” she nodded. “I remember.”

  “My family was killed by that monster. This is the first year I’ve been without them.”

  “And you’re all by yourself?”

  Carmen nodded.

  The Dwarfling looked down. “My parents are gone too,” she said. “But I’m not alone. I’ve got my aunt and my uncle and my cousin Brom. But you... you don’t have anyone. Do you?”

  “No one,” Carmen said. “That’s why I was crying. Because I miss my mother and my father and my brother so much.”

  “But they’re in the tree. Yggdrasil. With my mommy and daddy and all the Dwarves who died before.”

  “I know. It just doesn’t help that much right now.”

  The little girl blinked.

  Had Carmen control, she would’ve never spoken to a child like that. Their Heaven—their Tree—was sacred beyond all else. To dismiss it like nothing, and so brazenly in front of a young girl, was unlike any fault she could ever imagine.

  It was impossible to tell what the child thought. Whether she understood the concept or even the grief behind Carmen’s sentiment was beyond measure. When her eyes fell, Carmen fully expected tears to follow. But when they didn’t, and only silence came...

  “I’m sorry,” Carmen said, now more guilty than ever.

  “It’s ok,” the little girl replied.

  For the first time, her hands had shifted to reveal the contents of the jar. Inside was a translucent worm—no larger than Carmen’s fist, flexing idly at the bottom of the glass.

  The Dwarfling’s eyes fell to the glow worm within. “He always makes me happy when I’m sad,” she said, smiling when a faint pulse of blue light emanated inside the worm’s body. “To light my way when it’s full dark.”

  “I’m glad you have him.”

  “But I want you to have him,” she said, extending the jar.

  “No,” Carmen replied, drawing back. “I can’t take him from you.”

  “But it’s your turn to be happy. Look. He’s waving at you. See?”

  Carmen leaned forward.

  If she looked hard enough—if she squinted just enough to see the digits flexing on the invertebrate’s toes—it looked just like the worm was waving.

  Carmen reached out to take the jar.

  The moment her hands locked around the glass, the little girl took off into a run.

  “Hey!” Carmen called, standing. “Wait!”

  “Happy vaskrday!” the Dwarfling called back.

  She was gone before Carmen could even attempt to give chase.

  Looking down, she stared into the jar and watched the glow
worm pulse.

  “Happy vaskrday,” she said.

  With the jar in hand, Carmen turned and began to make her way toward town square.

  - - -

  The festivities continued throughout the morning and into the afternoon. During this time, Carmen kept her head down and her profile low—fearing, above all else, that she would be discovered by one of the many Sisterhoods, who would then alert Griffa Stonesinger to her whereabouts. Because of this, she kept to a table at the far corner of the square and only occasionally lifted her head to check the time—which seemed, beyond all stretch of the imagination, to pass unbearably slow.

  The people dancing, the choir singing, the children screaming—

  By the time night descended upon them, Carmen was ready for it to be over.

  Sadly, it had only just begun.

  Heralded from the municipal, the inauguration began with the sound of gongs emanating from the distant end of the square. Projected through brass pipes, it echoed about the gargantuan space and brought silence to the entire town of Ehknac. Not a sound could be heard, save the gong’s reverberations, and though colossal in respect, it was nothing compared to what was to come.

  The doors to their hall—they had not opened.

  The signal fires—they had not been lit.

  As the gongs died down and the rumbling pipes silenced, a single Dwarf—wrinkled and aged beyond recognition—stepped forward.

  All waited with bated breath.

  Some prayed, others watched, a choice few gripped pendants of their chosen gods.

  The Elder—hundreds of years old and seen only once a year—lifted his hands and sparked to life blue flame within the braziers.

  Shortly thereafter, the doors began to open.

  From them appeared the careers that dictated Dwarven society.

  The men and women in the golden robes and jeweled circlets were escorted from the municipal by a combination of armed men and mechanized units. Seen rarely, these automatons—with their fiery eyes and bladed limbs—surveyed the square with chilling accuracy as they escorted the careers upon a stone stage. Once in position, they turned to face the crowd, though it was evident by a brief glimmer of light that their intention was not simply to watch. Anyone who’d been paying attention would’ve seen the panels open on their pauldrons—would’ve known that, beneath all that glowed and glittered, there lay crossbolts waiting to be fired.