Fated Bloodlines, page 1
part #6 of Rise Of The Dragons Series
Rise of Dragons – Book 6
Fated Bloodlines
G Clatworthy
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© Gemma Clatworthy 2022
Find more at www.gemmaclatworthy.com
The moral right of Gemma Clatworthy to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Cover art by Sanjay Charlon (Beehive Illustrations)
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Foreword
This story takes place in the Rise of Dragons universe; a world where magical and mundane beings coexist and dragons have recently been awoken.
The first three books in the Rise of Dragons series are told from the point of view of Amethyst Haernson, a half-dwarf jeweller who just wants a quiet life. Book 4 shows Special Agent Ruth Jones’ point of view and is set in parallel to the end of Book 2 and part of Book 3. In Book 5 and this book, we’re back to Amethyst’s point of view. Now we’re all caught up, read on…
If you want to support Gemma, you can find her on patreon.com/G_Clatworthy for exclusive first reads of new stories. You can also join her newsletter for a free prequel to this series and follow Gemma on www.instagram.com/gemmaclatworthy, www.facebook.com/gemmaclatworthy or join the reader’s group Gemma’s book wyrms.
Contents
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
Bonus Chapter – Lorandir’s Stag Do
Thank you
About the Author
Other Books by G Clatworthy
Children’s Books
Chapter 1
I caught the elf looking at me askance. Out of the corner of his bright green eyes.
“Are you alright?”
“What? Yes, fine,” Lorandir’s voice was higher than usual, as if he was nervous. I pursed my lips together. He had seemed jumpy back in the Dragon’s Head café when we had ordered some of the luscious chocolate brownies and a couple of coffees to go from the owner, Brinda. At the time, I thought he was just annoyed that we had forgotten our reusable mugs and had bought new ones. I thought they were sweet with the Dragon’s Head logo printed neatly on bamboo but maybe it brought back too many memories of dragon attacks for my boyfriend.
He stepped out into the road.
“What are you doing?!” I pulled on his arm, yanking him back onto the pavement.
Lorandir shook his head, “Sorry, I thought it was green.” He pushed a hand through his blonde hair distractedly. What was going on with him today?
There were a lot of tourists out in Cardiff today and most of them seemed to be at the same pedestrian crossing as we waited for the traffic lights to turn green so we could cross safely. I pulled Errol’s lead tightly as the small wyrm tried to snap at the ankles of someone in front of us. The last thing I needed was the dragon-like creature harming someone. I could imagine exactly what my Uncle Owain, owner of a wyrm farm in the Welsh countryside, would say. It wouldn’t make pleasant listening.
A black taxi zoomed through the red light, nearly taking out a group of Chinese tourists heading to Cardiff Castle. I wasn’t sure of the exact words one of the tourists used as he shook his fist after the cab driver, but the message was clear. Good on him. His friends hurried him over the crossing. I watched them turn onto the wooden drawbridge that led to the enormous gate in the castle walls.
This week was the first time the castle had been opened to the public since a dragon slumbering under its foundations had awakened last year, causing half the castle to collapse. I remembered it well. I had been there as the creature had fought its way to the surface. The castle itself was still closed for repairs but the grounds and the domineering stone keep were back open for business. A member of the royal family had even been here to re-open it. I had seen it on the news. There had been a ribbon and everything.
Lorandir’s shoulders relaxed as the crowd formed a large queue in front of the gate and we carried on to Bute Park. Maybe he was just feeling claustrophobic. There were a lot of people out today enjoying the sunshine on the hot summer’s day. I instinctively swapped sides with the elf, so I was nearest to the road as we walked along the pavement next to the stone wall that linked Cardiff Castle to Bute Park. The stonemason had decided to top the wall with lifelike carved animals crawling over the top and had completed the look with realistic, menacing glass eyes. I didn’t like any of them, but the baboon was the worst. It always seemed like it was about to jump down and go on a rampage.
Normally Lorandir would argue good-naturedly that the man should be nearest the traffic. Today…he was silent. Schiztz. An unwelcome thought formed in my head. Was he going to break up with me? I studied his attractive face again. He looked distracted and kept giving me those sideways glances.
He started smiling slightly as we approached the park’s iron gates. I could put it down to his love of nature. Being an elf, he was always more comfortable around trees…or was it relief that he’d soon be finished with me? I thought back over our time together.
“How’s your training going with Espretha?” he asked.
Schiztz. Now he was bringing up his gorgeous elf friend. Our relationship had been going well. At least, I thought it had. Not that I had much in the way of relationships to compare it to. We’d spent almost every night together, especially since we’d almost been killed in Avalon last year. I’d been enjoying our relationship, but maybe it had been too much for him.
Aware my thoughts were spiralling instead of answering his question, I pulled myself back to the conversation, “Yeah, good, I guess.”
A honking horn and a squeal of tyres pulled me out of my self-pitying introspection. I turned to the road in time to see a flash of something blue cross the tarmac.
The cars weren’t exactly going fast thanks to the usual heavy weekend traffic and the constant pedestrians using the crossing, but it was tricky to stop. A yellow mini’s wheel clipped the small blue creature and sent it careening into the kerb. I heard a yelp of pain and saw the small pictsie trying to scrabble off the road. More cars drove past, ignoring the small creature’s plight. I walked towards it. Its black eyes met mine and it froze in shock, curling in on itself in a small ball. I had to do something.
I held my hands out and stepped into the road, blocking the cars while I rescued the fallen pictsie. More horns honked as I blocked the inner lane of traffic from moving. I moved Errol’s lead from hand to hand as I felt in my jean pockets for something to wrap around the shocked fae creature. Nothing.
I briefly considered tearing a strip from my top. No good. I was wearing a corset top with boning built in. I liked the steampunk style, and it suited my curvy figure, but it wasn’t good for makeshift rescuing material.
“What are you playing at love?” a driver shouted from a convertible.
Lorandir joined me in the road and took Errol off me. “So, what’s the plan?” He seemed amused.
“Give me your top.”
“Pardon?”
“I need something to pick up the pictsie with. Take off your top.”
With a sigh, the elf complied and pulled off his forest green t-shirt, revealing his toned torso. He threw it over to me and folded his arms self-consciously as he stared down two women who wolf-whistled at him from across the road. I turned to the creature and whispered words of comfort as I scooped it up in the fabric.
“There now, you’ll be OK. We’ll just take you to the park and check you’re alright,” I crooned to the creature. I stepped back onto the pavement and motioned to Lorandir to follow me. Errol gave a small growl as he scented the fae creature in my arms. Once we were safely through the iron gates, I cautiously opened the folded t-shirt to see if the small pictsie had been hurt.
The creature was as big as my hand and the same dark blueish-purple colour as a ripe blueberry. Large, black eyes blinked up at me and it partially uncurled itself from the protective ball shape it had formed. It was vaguely humanoid with feet and hands that ended with sharp pointed claws. I looked it up and down. I couldn’t see anything wrong with it but I wasn’t a vet.
“We need to call someone, take it to a rescue centre or something.”
Lorandir had his phone out and shook his head, “We can’t do that. Outside of Cornwall, these things are classed as pests. If we take it in, they’ll have to put it down.”
I gasped as the elf showed me his phone screen, confirming what he’d said. I looked down at the helpless creature laying still in my hands. It looked up at me with its large, dark eyes.
“I can’t keep you, sorry, you’ll have to make it here by yourself.” It stared up at me reproachfully. I didn’t know if it could understand me, but it was doing a good job of making me feel guilty. I put it down on the grass. “Go on, go!”
I waved my hand over it in a shooing motion to get it to go away. It stood and gripped my index finger in its tiny hands. I sniffed slightly, suddenly emotional. The pictsie was saying thank you to me. It was so sweet, in a bug-like sort of way. I smiled down at it. I felt a strange sensation behind me; that sharp feeling you get when someone is staring at you. I thought I caught an impression of blood and fire. It reminded me of the evil magic I’d witnessed in Avalon last year.
I turned my attention back to the pictsie which had tightened its grip on my hand, its claws digging gently into my skin. It opened its mouth in a smile, revealing a full set of pointed teeth. I smiled back. It bit down hard on my finger.
“Ow! Sonofa…!” I shook my hand out to dislodge the creature. It clamped on hard, and blood trickled down my palm. I shook harder and flung it off towards a tree. It turned a somersault in mid-air and suddenly it had wings. The dzraker flew away. It turned back and chattered at me before flying up into the nearest tree. I heard a thump and hoped it had hit its head on a branch. Hard.
I shook my hand again and surveyed the damage. Blood oozed from the wound. Dzraking pictsies. No wonder they were called pests. Lorandir took my hand in his and studied it carefully. I felt his familiar intoxicating magic fill me. Somehow it reminded me of honey mead, bittersweet dark chocolate and leafy forests all in one. It was intense. The pain in my finger subsided as his healing magic coursed through me and closed the wound. I wiped the blood left on my hand on my jeans. I hoped it would come out in the wash. Most of my trousers already had small burn marks from crafting jewellery and this was a nice pair of jeans; dark enough that I could get away with wearing them out in the evening as well as during the day.
“We should take you to a hospital,” Lorandir interrupted my thoughts. He was staring at my finger.
“It’s fine, you healed it. Now where are those brownies? I need some sugar after that blood loss.”
The elf arched an eyebrow at me, “That article said pictsie bites can be poisonous and I’m not sure my magic works on that.”
“Don’t even worry about it,” I said around a mouthful of heavenly chocolate brownies. Lorandir frowned, clearly unhappy with my devil may care attitude to my health. To his credit, he merely put on his t-shirt, now stained with my blood and a strange blue smear that I didn’t want to think too hard about, and offered me his arm. We strolled through the park. The leafy trees provided pleasant shade on the hot day, and we picked a large oak to sit under and finish our coffees and brownies. I let Errol off his lead and laughed as he used his small wings to jump and glide along, chasing after bugs.
“Amethyst, I love your laugh,” the elf traced one long finger along the side of my face before pulling back. “I hope you know I’ve enjoyed our time together,” he continued. Schiztz. I’d forgotten he was about to break up with me. My face froze in a strange half smile. “It’s been the best time of my life actually; I’ve never felt more alive and…” he let out a grunt of frustration and raked a hand through his blonde hair. He’d kept it shorter than the usual elven hairstyles and, when he tussled it, it looked like he should be part of a boy band. I’d miss the feel of that silken hair against my fingers. I reached out, desperate for one last brush before he ended it.
“Er…” I tried to interrupt.
“Please, Ame, Amethyst, let me finish. What I’m trying to say is…” he pulled both of my hands into his own. I felt the contrast of his soft skin with my own calloused hands. No matter how much hand cream I used, it never made up for my days spent at the forge where I crafted my jewellery and weapons. He looked down, “…your finger is turning blue!”
Chapter 2
“Don’t even worry…” I started to say. I trailed off as I looked down at my finger. It had swollen to twice its normal size and was indeed a shade of blue. It was the sort of blueish grey that you might find on a recently deceased zombie in a horror film. Schiztz. I prodded it with my other hand and winced. It was painful to the touch, like a spark set off under my skin. Lorandir’s magic furled into me again. I waited. My finger stayed the colour of an undead marshmallow and the pain, when I touched it, was still there.
“Let’s get you to a hospital.”
I shook my head, “Let’s give it another hour. I’ll go if it gets any worse.”
“We’re going to the hospital now!”
Lorandir dragged me to my feet, carefully avoiding my poisoned finger, and marched me out of the park. Errol darted around my feet, nearly causing me to trip up twice. After the second time, I picked him up, carefully avoiding my swollen finger. The small wyrm struggled in my arms. I knew how he felt. It was hot. Too hot to be carrying a creature that always felt like a small furnace. I wiped away a bead of sweat; my hair stuck to my face in clumpy strands.
With a final twist and a dig of his claws, Errol jumped up onto Lorandir’s shoulders and curled around his neck happily. I mumbled something about ungrateful pets as I rubbed the scratches on my arm. They stung more than my blue finger, and I cursed softly.
Once back at the main road, Lorandir stepped to the edge of the pavement and lifted his arm in the universal signal for needing a taxi. One came to a halt almost immediately. Typical. The elf ushered me inside and told the driver to get us to the hospital fast. The driver eyed the small dragon-like creature around my boyfriend’s neck and instantly added a tenner to the fare.
“If he causes any damage, you will have to pay!”
Lorandir nodded and stroked Errol calmly. The wyrm opened one amber eye and a tendril of smoke curled up from one nostril. I closed my eyes, willing him not to burn anything.
The taxi driver must have wanted us out of his cab as fast as possible. He swerved through the busy weekend traffic in record time, dodging into non-existent gaps and weaving his way to the front of every queue. I heard some terse curse words in a foreign language as he cut up another taxi and got into the fastest moving lane. Lorandir spent the drive soothing Errol, who growled softly at every erratic motion of the vehicle and resting his cool hand on my feverish forehead. It was unfair that in this sweltering weather, he was unaffected.
Eventually, the taxi pulled up to the University Hospital of Wales. I stared out of the window at the mural painted on the side. It showed a red Welsh dragon on a blue background. The dragon had its mouth open and looked like it was puking bright yellow daffodils. I frowned and wondered what the artist was trying to convey.
I tried to take a picture for my Uncle Owain; he owned a wyrm farm in the Welsh countryside and had strong views about artists romanticising dragons. I prodded the screen with my uninjured hand as we sped past. The photo came out as blurs of red and yellow on my phone.
The taxi screeched to a halt outside the walk-in accident and emergency unit. It was a tall, grey building, fashioned, like so many public buildings, from grim concrete on the outskirts of the city. Lorandir paid the fare and then practically pushed me through the automatic sliding doors to the check-in desk. A tired-looking receptionist in a crisp white shirt looked up at us. She slid a form attached to a cheap clipboard across the counter, followed by a chewed biro. I tried to pick it up and winced at the pressure of the pen on my index finger.
