Legacy of Dragons- Emergence Read online

  Legacy of Dragons: Emergence

  T.D. Raufson

  Copyright 2013 T.D. Raufson

  Smashwords Edition

  This book is available in print at most online retailers

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  DEDICATION

  To Shirley Nelson who lit the fire, Karla Horner who fanned the flames and Susan who maintained the boiler for all these years.

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1 Sunset on an Era

  Chapter 2 Dawn of a New Age

  Chapter 3 Chaos of Birth

  Chapter 4 An Unnatural Truce

  Chapter 5 Peace of Silence

  Chapter 6 The Conclave

  Chapter 7 Betrayal

  Chapter 8 Ambassador of the Dragons

  About the Author

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Although it is easy to see a novel as an individual effort, I can tell you that I could not have completed this one without the help of an extraordinary band of brothers. I use that phrase because I see them all in that way when it comes to my writing.

  Above all others, my wife has listened to me go on for days about the characters, the plots, the ideas and the worries, probably so much that she could have written this book herself. She is in my dedication because she has manned a difficult station for many years and deserves much of the credit for this books completion. Susan, thank you for supporting the craziness that is my life as a writer.

  No book ever comes together without the assistance of a cadre of readers, editors, confidants and coerced compatriots. This list is by no means complete but those listed here have been right beside me along this road. First, Mike and Jodie, you have to know that your initial reads and edits were the foundation of my work, without that support this would not be possible. Next, Chris, Lisa, Christopher and Courtney, you will never realize how important your sanctuary was to my sanity. Without those moments of peace in my crazy world I could not have reached this point. Joe, John, Steven, Amy, Mike, Angie, Eric, Deb, Grant, Bruce, Jeff and Jason, your support as initial readers and supportive friends and family cannot be over appreciated. To the staff of Rib N Loin where I spent over a year writing at lunch most days, thanks for understanding that I really just needed a quiet place to sit and write.

  This story first saw the light of day in a friends living room among the members of my writer’s group as an idea for a short story. Becky, Ryan and again my wife Susan, helped me dig into places I think we all would rather never visit again. In those enjoyable and sometimes difficult exercises you all helped me to find a voice for emotions I hope I have captured a little of here. Your opinions and ideas inspired me.

  Thanks to Lynn Cole of Lynn Cole Body Art, Grace Moss of Bodhi Tree Photography, Rio Sirah and Jessica Moss for the fantastic cover art on this book. You all really helped to breathe life into this story. See you soon for the next cover.

  It is easy as a writer to tell yourself that you don’t need an editor. It is easy to believe that you have the right pacing and depth to every scene. But most often you are too close to the project to really see everything. That is why I must thank Carrie Woods, my editor, for helping me see the places where my scenes came short, or I needed more emotion. Thanks for bringing the best out of this novel so I can share it with everyone. Also, I must thank David Thurmond and Susan for their additional assistance with editing my final draft. They walked a difficult path and defended the heroic comma at all costs. All of the remaining errors in this text are because of my arrogance or ignorance.

  I’m sure there are others who deserve mention. I know I am surrounded by people who have listened to me go on and on about my writing. I thank you all for your patience, advice and support. You may never have known the simple word or phrase you shared with me that gave me the idea or the strength to write it. This is not a lonely journey. I have walked this path with you all and you have molded this as much as I have. To you all I give a heartfelt,

  Thank You!

  Chapter 1 - Sunset on an Era

  June 20, 2012 – 1940 EDT – Signal Mountain, Tennessee.

  Melissa ran a finger over the disguised lock on the copper clad box that was the only thing holding the beast of change at bay. Ivory claws dug into the copper at the two front corners as if the intricate dragon hammered into the cover was going to rip the ancient box open. Hammered scale work ran up the forelegs of the embossed dragon to its wing roots. Wings opened behind the relief, creating the illusion of darkness plunging into the night’s void behind the dragon. Mountains hammered on the front side of the box rose up from the valley on either side of a village situated at the cove of the valley in front of a small lake. The scene on the ground was peaceful, but Melissa couldn’t decide if the dragon and the contents he protected in the box portended doom.

  The intricately hammered neck of the dragon projected forward from the shoulders with sharp neck ridges jutting up from the metal cladding like a saw blade. The head crested the box’s cover at the edge where ivory horns thrust into the air and emerald eyes stared down onto the village. The master metalwork disguised the hinge in the neck behind its horns and the keyhole in the nostril so that the latch and lock were lost in the intricate artwork. Yet again, for an uncounted number of times, her finger passed over the lock. She eyed the key she was holding in her left hand and rubbed the matching metalwork between her fingers. She had been holding the key so long that it was warm to the touch, and she wondered tangentially if she could melt the key from worry.

  Her grandmother, who yet again drew her wandering attention back to the lock, the box, and her duty, seemed to be standing over her shoulder even now. Melissa glanced up to look out across the back lawn into the slowly dropping sun at the small headstone and mound of soil they had carefully placed that day. A full day’s sorrow settled back into her soul. That the service was exactly what Helena had asked for did little to soothe her.

  The mound of dirt was neither the beginning, nor the end of this very long day. The aged metal box that had come with the will, the deed to the estate, and the unimaginable responsibility for her 21 years, demanded her attention. It accused her of avoiding her promise to the overly nervous lawyer that had left it with her. Again, she fingered the key that he had squeezed into her hand as he had finished the reading.

  She whined to the empty room. “Why me? Why did she leave all of this to me?”

  The question was rhetorical. She knew there was no stability in her father. He would liquidate it all and pour the money into the same financial pit he had already invested their family fortune. But, that was still no reason to put all of this on her young shoulders. She couldn’t even pick a major, how could she run an estate and whatever else the box demanded?

  She pushed the accusing box away from her on the blotter and looked up at the sun that refused to set. Nothing would make this horrible day end. If everything remained the same, and this day was allowed to continue, it would be nothing less than catastrophic.

  The large grandfather clock in the foyer began to chime the hour. She listened to the deep tones, counting. When it reached eight and stopped, she sighed. The old house was empty without her grandmother, and yet she could still feel her in every corner of the library and emanating fr
om every book surrounding her. It was comforting, and Melissa would have been happy to spend the rest of her life in the room among her grandmother’s legacy.

  The door behind her swung open, chasing the peaceful moment away. Charles, her grandmother’s butler, slipped into the room with a silver tray and the Royal Albert tea set. To say that Charles slipped anywhere was to be polite. He tried, but he was too large, at six feet four, to be very stealthy. He was an excellent butler, trained by his father and his entire family to carry on the ancient tradition of caring for nobility, but in Melissa’s mind he did not fit the role. He sat the tea set down and poured the steaming liquid into a single cup. The delicate aroma of peaches surrounded her.

  “Charles, what is this, the longest day in history?” she grumbled playfully at him.

  “No, Miss, just the year.”

  She stared at him. The formality of his response stunned her a little. She could still see the little boy she had grown up with in the back garden and felt a little offended at his formal response. He looked back at her and motioned toward the tea.

  “I knew you had some work to complete, and I thought you might like some tea. The guests have all left.”

  Melissa leaned back and looked at Charles again, and it was if she was seeing him for the first time in years. Her last real memory of him was when she watched him carry his high school football team to the championship. She could not deny that she had a crush on him back then, but she had left for Spain the next week, and he had left for boot camp the next summer. Their lives had not really intersected again until that moment.

  She had been away, engrossed in school, when he unexpectedly came home from the war and took over for his father. She remembered being disappointed, in the passing way that high school girls are, because she always thought he was meant for more. She liked the image of Charles the warrior. As she looked at him in the passing moment between them, she still saw him that way.

  The war, or more likely the drama that had forced him back into the duties he had run from originally, had carved a permanent frown into a face she remembered as gentle. The change did not conflict with his duties; in fact, it made him exactly the kind of butler she wanted at her door. But, she did miss his smile. No matter how hard he tried to live up to his father, though, he could never hide the fact that he just didn’t fit serving tea among the antiques in the old manor. He looked like a puzzle piece forced into place because it should fit. With that last passing thought, she found herself smiling and allowed a quiet laugh to escape.

  “Did I make a joke, Miss?”

  “No, not intentionally.” She paused. “Do you remember the last time we just talked?”

  “Yes, Miss. It was the weekend you left for Spain.”

  She nodded. “It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

  “A lifetime, Miss.” His words verified how he saw the years he had spent serving her grandmother since coming back from Iraq.

  Her grandmother had refused to talk about it, but Melissa knew there was more under the surface of that story. Melissa had not thought about it in years. Apparently, Charles still did.

  “I’ve missed those conversations. Would you consider joining me for a little tea? I could use the company.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss, but I thought you had work to complete. It would not be appropriate anyway.” He smiled professionally and stepped back into his place.

  “Yes, of course.”

  She could not ignore the disappointment his answer had caused, but it was part of being the mistress of this house. She sat back down in the chair and pulled the box toward her. This relationship was not going to work for her if her new position was going to keep them from being friends. There were certain barriers one maintained no matter how lonely, confused, and in need of a friend one felt. Dismissed, he turned and left her alone with her duty. She scowled at the box.

  Beyond the French doors, the sun refused to drop below the long green lawn that led down to the overlook, the valley that plunged away from the edge, and the new grave that surmounted it. She took the cup of tea Charles had poured for her and sipped the perfectly prepared enchanted peach white tea. The aroma and flavor stirred memories of her grandmother writing her novels at the desk. A few tears dripped from her cheeks as she stared into the setting sun. She sipped her tea.

  The chime of the clock at the bottom of the hour forced her from the warmth of the tea and back to her duties. Melissa set the cup down on the tray and placed both hands on the top of the box. There were conditions to her inheritance. In the box, she would find one of her grandmother’s journals with important instructions for her to follow. Like a test she had not studied for, Melissa braced for the contents of the box, inserting the key into the lock that held back what she had been avoiding. Why had she let the lawyer talk her into this? Why had she signed the man’s forms? She wished she had just told him no. None of this would be her problem if she had just told him she was not interested. Was it even possible to turn down an inheritance?

  She took a deep breath and pushed it back out before turning the key in the lock. A quiet, anticlimactic click filled the room as she lifted the lid.

  Inside, among a stack of things that had belonged to her grandmother, was the small crystal encrusted claw on a heavy gold chain her grandmother had always worn around her neck. It was a little macabre, but Melissa could not remember a time it was not with her, and, because of its constant presence, she smiled at the memories the amulet unearthed. The crimson crystals seemed to grow from the black three-talon claw and shimmered in the sunlight reminding Melissa of the day she and Helena had walked together along the overlook just before Melissa had started college. Her grandmother had scolded her for considering not continuing her education. Mixed with the pleasure of that memory was a little anger that she had taken that advice now. The years she had lost with her grandmother seemed too large a price for what she had learned.

  She picked up the amulet, clutching it in her left hand. A warm tingle ran up her arm, and the memory of her grandmother intensified. The stones throbbed in her palm. She blinked and looked at the talisman. Suppressed tears rushed down her cheeks, and it took her a moment to recover from the flood of emotions. When she had recovered a little, she set the amulet aside with trembling hands. If everything in the box had the same effect, she would never get through this.

  Below the amulet was her grandmother’s favorite pen. At the bottom of the box, she found the cause of her current turmoil. A small, leather-bound journal with no indication of what it contained waited for her. It was new compared to other journals filed on the shelves around her. Her grandmother was never without one, and by the time each journal was filed onto the shelves, it was worn and ragged. This one was so new that the cover was still stiff, and the binding popped as she opened it and turned to the first page.

  Her grandmother’s neat script filled the page. Melissa started to cry, again, but she forced the tears back and read.

  Melissa,

  You have always been a blessing to me, and I’ve told you more than once how very special you are. Remember when I told you there was something inside of you that made you that way? I wanted to explain what I meant before I died. I have run out of time to tell you everything. I thought I could handle it a bit longer and it was important that I be with you, to help you with what is about to happen. This sickness came upon me before I could finish my research.

  I had to be sure about it. You see, it involves our true legacy, and it is far more serious than I once believed. I think I’ve collected everything here, but I’m afraid it may be too late. Please read this as soon as possible. I’ve lost track of the time.

  You have to read this and follow the instructions before sunset on the solstice this year. If you do not, the consequences to this world will be dire. It is imperative that you take my place and complete the ritual.

  Do not talk to anyone about this. Do not let them near this journal. Trust Charles. More than anything, do not trust anyone in
our family, especially the males.

  You asked me about Charles a few years ago, and I owe you an explanation. I can never explain completely, but I brought him back from the war to save him. I know that I cost him his career, but his life is far more important than that.

  If you succeed, and I do hope that you do; I expect you will understand this all better. Good luck and do not be distracted by anyone.

  Helena.

  The next pages explained her family history. She started to read the very dry descriptions and found herself nodding off. If she were going to read it all that night, she would need more tea, and she was not going to waste a perfect cup of tea on that.

  Melissa closed the journal, placed it back in the box and sat back in her chair. A long deep sigh exited her chest, and she closed her eyes. She was not sure she could take anything else today. She didn’t have the energy to face it. In one day, she had gone from a simple college student to a landowner. Now her grandmother was leaving her secret instructions she had to deal with before the solstice. She certainly didn’t feel up to this challenge.

  She opened her eyes and glared through new tears at the chest and the journal hidden in it. She closed and locked the box and pushed it away from her. She could not take any more. She opened the top drawer of the desk and started to put the box away but paused to flip through the calendar on the desk when the door behind her flew open.

  Nicklaus, her cousin, stepped through the doorway and into the library as if he owned the estate. A tremor of anger slipped across her face, but she quickly controlled it. Nicklaus had been roaming the estate with her for as long as she could remember. She was not in the mood to deal with him today and he seemed agitated. The aroma of cigars and bourbon hung around him like his attitude, and she knew he had been talking to her father.