Old Dark (The Last Dragon Lord Book 1) by Michael La Ronn

Author:Michael La Ronn [La Ronn, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: antihero fantasy, grimdark, elf, dragon series, Dragons, Thriller, dark fantasy with magic
Publisher: Ursabrand Media
Published: 2016-08-19T06:00:00+00:00

XXIII

Dark screamed as he banged himself against a metal grill.

He was in a shadowed room and couldn’t tell where he was.

How long had he thrown himself against the darkness?

Hours, maybe. But there was no light, no sun in the sky for him to track, no moon for him to divine. Just a large skylight in the ceiling that showed neither the moon nor stars.

For the second time, he had awakened in a strange place. He was tired, bone-weakened and sore, but he had no patience for sleep. His father had always told him, Never go to sleep in a strange land. You may not like where you wake up.

He squinted at his surroundings. His left eye socket stung. He brought his fingers to it and noticed that he was wearing a black eye patch. He tried to remove it but a magical vibration hummed through his head—it wasn’t going anywhere.

He could make out several shapes in the darkness, but he couldn’t tell what they were.

Was he in the northern mountains? A very cold breeze blew through the room, and it seemed to come from above, stopping and starting at intervals.

What kind of wind blew this way, steadily then not at all?

He must be in a cavern. Yes, a cavern bewitched by magic, perhaps made from the snow or the coldest fringes of the ocean.

He thought about his trips to the mountains as a young dragon. One in particular stood out. He strained to recall the freezing air that made ice crystals on his wings. He felt the cold snow against his claws, the heat of his and his mother’s fiery breath to keep them warm. There had been no prey in the Northern Territory, at least none that they could hunt easily. They’d had to feast the day before, relying on their strength to make it through. They had trekked to the summit of the topmost mountain, into a dark cavern where an old dragon—a stout Keeper—bowed to his mother, dipped his tail into the aquifer and grinned as he gave them vials of poison.

They had used that poison to kill a dragon lord.

But this place was too unlike those mountains.

Everything he’d seen so far was unlike anything he’d ever experienced in his life. His heart hadn’t stopped racing since the moment he’d opened his eyes.

“Release me!” he yelled. “Or I will kill every one of you!”

Silence.

“Release me!” he yelled again. “Release me! I am the Dragon Lord!”

Still nothing, only his voice echoing back at him, bouncing off walls that were far, far away. Hearing his voice inflicted back on him, he shrank against a cold wall and panted. Grief overcame him, and he fought back the urge to let his guard down.

He was the dragon lord. He had to remain strong.

Dragon lords weren’t captured.

Dragon lords weren’t weakened.

Dragon lords always showed strength.

They radiated confidence and forced respect.

What did he have to do to get what he deserved?

He thought of his mother’s voice. If you can’t command respect, you must create it, and that must involve the breaking of bones and the spilling of blood.

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