Dragon Heat

Dragon Heat

By

Ella J. Phoenix

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are

products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to

be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,

organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Dragon Heat: Book One

Copyright© 2012 Ella J. Phoenix

ISBN: 978-1-60088-743-7

Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde

Editor: Jana Hanson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced

electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in reviews.

Cobblestone Press, LLC

www.cobblestone-press.com

To my amazing mother, who is my catalyst, my fantastic husband,

who is my inspiration, and all my dearests—Aluisia, Margaret, Tiffany,

Kate, Sarah, and Helen—for their support and constructive feedback.

Love you all,

Ella

Glossary

Apa Dobrý group of five gods, creators of life on Earth and the

universe

Apa Sâmbetei the land of the souls; the afterlife

calathor someone who can cross to the land of the souls and return

unharmed

draco a dragon in human form

Hiad the Underworld

inimă the soul

razbians lizard people known for their lack of intelligence

Soartas the three witches of Destiny

sujha a non-pure being; offspring of the union between two

different races

Terhem Viahta the land of the living; Earth

Ucidhere god of death, lord of Apa Sâmbetei

Zmyzel goddess of life

Romania, 1800

Tardieh realized he must have passed out as he could feel that the

sun was in a different position now. It was almost sundown.

I must not lose myself to panic.

He opened his senses to his surroundings. He heard the faint sound

of water dripping and someone breathing a few feet away to his left. They

had left him with only one razbian
to guard him.

Hmm, interesting.

They must have thought he was very weak to have done it so. Not

that they were mistaken. He had lost a lot of blood, and his body ached all

over.

Breathe, breathe
,
he thought. He decided to open his eyes but just a

fraction. He didn’t want the guard to know he had awakened. The first

thing he noticed were the dancing shadows on the walls casted by the dim

light of a single candle placed somewhere to his right on the ceiling.

On the ceiling?

No, he realized, the candle was on the floor. He was the one on the

ceiling—hung upside down. The dripping sound had not been from

water; it was his own blood dribbling onto the floor. He was suspended

by his ankles with thick silver chains. His hands were bound behind him

in the same fashion. His head pounded from being upside down for so

long.

Inhale, exhale.

He could smell piss, excrement, and something else, something

worse. Fear. He could smell the fear of previous prisoners who had

suffered in that room before him. Their terror had been so tangible it had

tainted the air, the walls, the floor.

‚So yer awake, then.‛ The razbian guard stood up and placed

himself in front of Tardieh. He could see the guard’s sharp blackened

teeth and smell his putrid breath. ‚We thought yer was gone. But yer a

mulish one, ain’t yer?‛

The razbian was of average height, much smaller than a draco or a

vampire, but one would consider him bulky. The green leathery skin and

bulging far-apart yellow eyes were the only things preventing them from

walking among humans like vampires and dracos did. Thank Apa Dobrý

for that otherwise the pricks would have turned the world upside down

by now.

Tardieh felt the air change around his face before the blow hit him.

He was so weak, he didn't even try to duck or defy the guard. All he could

do was close his eyes and welcome the pain. He heard the bastard’s

high-pitched laugh. How long had he been in this piss-smelling prison?

Another blow. This one hit his stomach with such force that

Tardieh’s body swung back and forth. ‚Hey, I’m talkin’ ter ye!‛ More of

the high-pitched laughter.

Tardieh tried to say something, but he couldn’t make the words

come out. He tried again. ‚Water.‛

This time the guard, taken by curiosity, bent down to try to hear

what he was saying. The warrior inside Tardieh took over. His fangs

extended smoothly, and with the last ounce of energy he had, he bit the

motherfucker’s ear. His brain registered the razbian’s screams as if from

afar, but fresh blood had already hit Tardieh’s lips. The delectable warm

liquid oozed into his mouth. He forgot where he was or that his body was

aching. There was only the metallic taste and the life energy spreading

inside him. Razbian blood was a far cry from a humans’. It was more

leaden and colder—razbians were distant descendents of the lizard people

from the east. But at that moment, it was the best elixir Tardieh had ever

tasted.

‚Yer sunufa bitch! Yer ripped off my ear!‛ If Tardieh had had the

energy, he would have laughed. His ecstasy was cut short, however, by

another series of punches to his face.

The door opened, and another guard stepped in the room. He was

taller and leaner than the razbian guard. While the later had obvious

evidence of his race, the former could have easily passed for a human.

Tardieh recognized who it was by the strong odor of decaying meat.

Vrajitor was his name, so-called the ‚magician.‛ He had politely

introduced himself when Tardieh had been brought to that cell weeks

before—or maybe it had been months already; he had lost track of time

long ago. ‚Not that I have more magic than the others,‛ Vrajitor had

explained on their first encounter. ‚It is just that I am known for magically

making my guests speak.‛ Despite human folklore, dragons could unleash

their magic when in human form, although it was never as powerful as

when they were in their true nature. So Tardieh had not been surprised by

the remark.

‚Has he awakened?‛ the draco asked the razbian guard, not

wavering his glare from Tardieh. That was not a good sign.

‚Da, sire, the leech bit my ear!‛ the guard said, still holding what

remained of his left ear. His ugly long scaled hands shook.

A faint twitch that could have been mistaken for a smile appeared

on Vrajitor’s face. ‚May that serve you well for underestimating your

enemy.‛ He took a few more steps into the room. Tardieh noticed the

bastard’s eyes scrutinizing his naked body. Tardieh held his gaze, trying

to show no fear of what was coming.

‚You are either stronger than I have anticipated or more stupid,

bloodsucker. But you will tell me what I want to know sooner or later.‛

And there it was again, the face twitch. But this time it came with a slight

show of his shark-like teeth. ‚Bring me the scula
,
‛ Vrajitor barked to the

razbian.

The guard hurried out of the room and came back with a trolley

covered by a long, stained cloth. Tardieh was now well acquainted with

what they called the scula. The instruments were made of pure silver, of

course, so as to enhance the prisoners’ pain. Tardieh tried to suck in a gulp

of air, but his lungs ached too much. He must have had a few ribs broken

in the never-ending punching sessions. He didn’t mind the punches,

though. They had always kept him awake. Throughout his years of

training to become the leader of his people, he endured endless sessions of

ruthless practice. His father, the vampire king, had made it clear that just

because he was his heir, he was not to receive any special treatment. More

so, Tardieh’s training had been even more callous than the other warriors.

He was the prince and needed to be stronger than the others, more

prepared to deal with any battles that the Soartas
imposed on him. Such

as this one.

Vrajitor lifted the sheet to reveal his most loved torture apparatus.

‚Which one should we use today, leech? Would you like another session

with my gheara?‛ He raised a blood-stained silver device that looked like

a claw with four sharp fingers attached to a short handle. Tardieh

swallowed dry. He could not stop the dread which came with the

memories of that claw ripping his flesh open. Vrajitor had used it on his

abdomen, his legs, and his back. In the beginning, he had healed

immediately, but in the last couple of visits from the magician, Tardieh

had noticed that his healing abilities had been slower. The wounds from

their previous session were still bleeding.

‚Or maybe you would like to meet my newest invention, the para.‛

With the now familiar twitch on his face, Vrajitor raised a strange, long

device. It had the shape of an oversized pear with an extensive handle on

its narrowest end and a pointed prong at the other, where the bottom part

of the pear would have been. Vrajitor’s grin got broader as he twisted the

device’s handle. The bottom part opened up in three slices revealing a

lengthy, thick screw. The more he twisted the handle, the more the slices

opened up and the broad rivet was drawn out in the middle. ‚You see, my

stubborn guest, my first para was developed to punish the ones who

dared lie to me. These wedges can do quite a damage when inserted down

someone’s throat.‛

Tardieh could imagine the pain such a thing would cause.

Expanded by the force of the screw, the maximum aperture of the

segments would mutilate the victim’s esophagus while the elongated

middle section would continue ripping through the gullet’s channel.

‚But since you have not exactly lied to me—you refused to utter a

word, and that’s not technically lying—I think I will apply my para in

another cavity in a lower part of your beautiful body.‛ Taking his time,

Vrajitor positioned himself behind Tardieh. With a sickening dread,

Tardieh noticed the bastard was aroused. ‚Tell me where your coward

king hides and I will spare you.‛

Tardieh knew that was a lie. The fucker enjoyed his torture sessions

too much to deprive himself of a good one. Tardieh felt the deceivingly

smooth touch of the silver device burning his left gluteus. It was making

its way down his buttocks. The strong smell of burned flesh invaded his

nostrils. He had to fight the bile rising in his throat, but he would not fail

his people. He would endure trials, torture, and suffering, till the Soartas

decided it was time for him to meet his maker, but he would not betray

his father’s location.

‚Tell me where your armies hide, bloodsucker!‛ Vrajitor bellowed,

tracing another painful path down Tardieh’s lower body, dangerously

close to his anal orifice.

Tardieh could not contain the yelp; it came out like a bark.

Struggling to keep his sanity, he gathered some strength. ‚Fuck you,‛ he

said in a dark, low voice. It was all he could muster.

He saw Vrajitor’s eyes narrow and become even more yellow. The

fanatic look on his torturer’s face was so intense Tardieh thought it would

expel fire at anytime and burn him to death right there and then. Death

would have been most welcomed. Vrajitor raised his hand and leveled the

device to its intended destiny. ‚Let’s see who is going to fuck whom

tonight, bloodsucker.‛

Tardieh braced himself for the pain.

‚Excuse me, sire?‛ A female voice came from the open door.