The Sky Lord
Book 3 of the Convergence Series
by
Autumn Dawn
Work in Progress
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The Sky Lord
Copyright © 2016 by Autumn Dawn
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under
copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored
in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by
any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise)
without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above
publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product
of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges
the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in
this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The
publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or
sponsored by the trademark owners.
The Sky Lord
It had been thirty years since the
Convergence, when the dimensions aligned and combined Earth and the world of
Gwyllon, known in human mythology as “Underhill”. Elven castles and ancient
ruins sprouted in vacant lots, on major highways, sometimes merging with existing
buildings, twisting into completely new structures. Roads and rail systems
reformed, and after the rioting, starvation and death, agriculture finally
sorted itself and food began to flow. A new government formed of elves and men
had arisen, a society of human tech and elven magic. Cell phones and frost
giants, race cars and elven steeds, dungeons and dragons…
And everywhere, monsters.
The Sky Lord
Super-duper book
blurb
Dixie listened to her gas
tank tick as she stood by the side of the road, waiting for the traffic on the
one lane bridge to clear. The wooden bridge was hastily constructed post
Convergence and in dire need of an upgrade. Traffic to the city had increased;
the highway patrol was successfully keeping the monster population under
control, but the department of transportation hadn’t caught up. Cars were
forced to take turns from each side, making morning traffic a nightmare.
She blew out a
breath and looked away from the convoy of rusty old cars, horse drawn buggies
and lone horsemen. She rode a motorcycle because gas was expensive and horses
got eaten by monsters. It usually meant she could weave in and out of traffic
jams, but there was no way around the stalled car clogging the bridge. All the
cars had pulled to the side of the road to let a big 4x4 hook a tow strap to
it.
She was stuck under
the broiling sun with twenty-seven cars ahead of her. Her jeans and combat
boots were good for preventing burns and road rash, but right now they stuck to
her skin in a slick of sweat. That was okay; it matched the one gluing her
t-shirt to her chest. She’d peeled off her helmet and armored motorcycle
jacket, and flicked the tail of her light brown French braid off her shoulder.
She’d tried wearing it short, but the stuff always got in her eyes, usually
when there was killing to do. There was nothing worse than being blinded by
your own hair when beheading a three headed snake.
Braids were easier,
even if they exposed the tips of her pointed ears to sunburn. That sucked, but
even trailer trash elves had healing, so she got by. Not enough to heal the
scars that snaked over her forearms, neck and torso, but she’d learned not to
mind. She was alive, wasn’t she?
The shoulder holster
made sweat collect under her shirt, so she shifted it to try and get some
airflow. She’d never take it off; the other gun at her hip and the machete
poking over her shoulder were necessary to a girl with her particular talents.
The tow strap broke,
provoking a heated argument. Even with keen elf vision, she had to squint to
make out what was happening. Someone finally produced a chain, and they hooked
up again.
She decided to
remain standing, fluff her butt a bit. Straddling a bike seat for hours at a
time tended to numb it.
The river was wide
and looked inviting, but she knew better than to dip her toes in unknown
waters. This was a northern river, but who knew what kind of crazy fish had
spawned? Since Earth and Gwsyllon, known in human mythology as “Underhill” had
converged, magic and science had united, producing a generation as likely to
see sea monsters and dragons as it was to own a cell phone and email account.
She wasn’t too keen
on dragons; seemed like another kind of monster to her, and she had enough
monsters in her life.
They were pulling
the dead car to the side of the road now. Looked like traffic might get moving
shortly.
The river stirred. Her
hand dropped to her gun as the ripple revealed a wide green back. What was the
chance that was an elderly turtle, peacefully going about its business?
Probably about the same as her getting a PhD in math or science.
The creature lifted
its head and growled, the short tentacles around its eye ridges wiggling. It
focused on the dead car, wet fish eyes sizing up the occupants.
Oh, crap, Dixie
thought, and sprinted for the bridge.
Shozan was minding his own
business when screams from the river caught his attention. Angling his leathery
wings, he corrected course to investigate. Cars were fleeing the river, crashing
and scrapping each other in the frenzy. Others parked nearby as heavily armed
motorists fired on a monster in the water. The bullets did little good, seeming
to enrage it. The heavily armored beast lumbered for the bank, as big as a two
story house.
There was a car dead
at the water’s edge, the parents frantically unbuckling screaming children from
car seats. The man had one leg in a cast and the woman was heavily pregnant.
A young woman stood
between them and the thing on the river. She had a gun in one hand, but it was
pointed at the ground. Was she frozen with fear?
The monster in the
water paused, its head swiveling to view her with widely spaced eyes. It seemed
confused.
Shozan took
advantage of the distraction to dive at the monster, talons out, driving it
into the gravel bar. He could have flamed it, but the girl would have been
roasted. Instead he used his massive jaws to break the monster’s neck, ripping
it half off.
Satisfied the
monster was dead, he looked for the girl and saw her scrambling up from the
dust, eyes wide. Most likely she’d tripped over her own feet trying to flee.
Well, he was terrifying. He took stock of the
situation, noting the twitchy-fingered gunmen. Bullets merely tickled, but it
wasn’t good for the human’s state of mind if they started firing. “It’s all
right, the monster is dead. I’ve got it under control. Has anyone called
highway patrol? Are there any injuries?”
It took a moment for
the shocked motorists to respond, but Shozan’s natural command soon brought
results. Any injuries were minor. Also, since the road was now clear, it was an
easy matter for people to start driving over the bridge, and they eagerly
hurried on their way.
Shozan noted the
bridge with disapproval; he’d see that it was attended to. It was obviously
past time for expansion. He would speak to those in charge, see that it was
taken care of.
He found the girl
swearing at her bike. He vaguely recalled seeing a jacked up truck crunch over
it as the owner fled. The front end was totaled, both tires mashed. “Do you
need a lift?”
She eyed him with
open suspicion. “I’m good.”
He rumbled in
disapproval. “Shozan,” he said, leaving out the many honorifics. “Why didn’t
you run from the monster?”
She made a face.
“Usually, monsters love me. I have a gift. Too bad water monsters don’t seem to
feel my charm.”
“Do you have a job?”
She blinked. “I’m
between jobs. Why?” Her drawl was deeply southern, smooth and feminine. She
would be easy to listen to.
“What’s your name?”
Her brow furrowed.
“Dixie Jones. What’s yours?” Scars snaked around her arms, neck and slid under
her shirt. Faint lines shown around her nose and eye, as if something had
bitten her. If so, the damage had been expertly repaired.
“If it’s true you
charm monsters, I have a job for you. I pay extremely well.”
She surveyed him in
disbelief. A towering, midnight blue dragon in his prime, he’d just killed an
enormous river monster in front of her, and it had only taken seconds. “I’m
having a hard time believing this.”
He grinned, and she
took a quick step back from his dagger teeth. “No offense intended.”
His laughter boomed.
He liked this girl. “I’ll give you a million dollars for three day’s work.
We’ll negotiate a salary after that. This is a long term problem, but I see
potential in you.”
She studied him for
a long moment. “Three days for something you could do yourself.”
“I’m a busy dragon,
Ms. Jones. You’ll work with the team I’ve hired to take care of such things.
This was fun, but my business affairs don’t allow time for me to flit about,
killing stray monsters. I have a company to run.”
“Do you consider
yourself a monster, Mr. Shozan?”
“Absolutely. I’m
also a stickler for contracts, which I will require you to sign. A million
dollars is a large retainer, even for a dragon.”
A million dollars.
He watched it sink in, the cautious excitement creep into her eyes. “A contract
would be good.”
“Excellent. Shall I
give you a ride to the city? We can be at my lawyer’s office in minutes.” He
called ahead, left a message with the secretary to expect them. He’d feed her
while they waited for his attorney to draw up a document, bind her to a
contract…and then they would see if Miss Dixie Jones really could charm
monsters.
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