Through the Ashes- The Complete Series Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Spark of War

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sword of Fire

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Embers of Darkness

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bonus deleted scene

  Blaze of Magic

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Extras

  Books by J.A. Culican

  About the author

  Contact me

  Spark of War

  Sword of Fire

  Embers of Darkness

  Blaze of Magic

  J.A. Culican

  Copyright © 2018 by J.A. Culican

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of these books may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written consent from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review. Trademark names appear throughout these books. Rather than trademark name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  The information in these books is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in these books.

  The characters, locations, and events portrayed in these books are fictitious. Any similarities or resemblance to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Edited by: Cassidy Taylor

  Cover Art by: Rebecca Frank

  www.dragonrealmpress.com

  Spark of War

  For Olivia.

  Jaekob ran through the tunnel, dodging left and right to avoid the many people clogging it up. A wagon loaded with a mountain of mushrooms rolled out, right in front of him. The wagon was priceless, but it was too late to stop. He dove over it, landing on the far side and rolling to break the fall. He came up on his feet and hardly lost any speed, still running. Grinning, he glanced over his shoulder. As he had hoped, his pursuer hadn’t risked the reckless jump himself and now stood far behind, shaking his fist. The wagon’s wealthy owner was doing the same, Jaekob noted with a grin.

  He looked ahead again—just in time to see the startled expression of a young woman right before he barreled into her at a full run. She toppled over with him on top of her, and they crashed to the stone floor in a heap together. He found himself looking into her eyes, emerald green, unlike his own cobalt-blue eyes. He rolled off her and tried to get up, but he was dazed and his limbs refused to obey him. The woman lay next to him, gasping for air and glaring at him.

  The chase… Jaekob looked back at the wagon, but he didn’t see his pursuer. He had also dropped his bag, which held all the goods he’d acquired in the market. Someone in the growing crowd must have snatched it when it went flying. With no bag, though, at least he didn’t need to fear his pursuer catching him.

  As he rose unsteadily to his feet, he shoved his shaggy brown hair out of his face and then he pulled his accidental victim to her feet, too, instead of sprinting away, he checked her over for any signs of injury.

  “Are you okay?”

  She dusted herself off without looking at him and snarled, “I’d be a lot better if you paid attention to where you were going, you dimwit.”

  She turned to face him, and whatever she was going to say got caught in her throat. Her face turned two shades paler. “I’m… I’m sorry, I—”

  He cut her off with a hand wave. He often got that reaction, and it was always irritating. “I’m not my father. Anyway, I should be the one to apologize.”

  Almost as if on cue, he felt a strong hand planted firmly on his shoulder. “Give it up, you scoundrel,” he heard a man’s voice from behind him, “Where’s your bag? I’m claiming what’s mine, and you can just face the consequences.”

  The woman scrambled away from the two and couldn’t get lost in the growing crowd fast enough.

  Jaekob smirked and turned to face his pursuer. “What bag? No bag means no bonus for you, Kalvin.”

  The other man groaned. “Don’t tell me you lost it?”

  “Well, do you see a bag? Sorry. But you lost the bet.” Jaekob’s mouth turned up at the corners and he smirked.

  Kalvin, who stood at least a head taller than him, scowled. “How do you figure I lost the bet? Neither of us has the bag, so no one wins.”

  “Actually,” Jaekob replied, still smiling, “the bet was that you could get tonight’s dinner to my chef before I could. You haven’t done that, so you lose.”

  Kalvin thumped him on the arm. “Technicality!”

  “Ow!”

  “That’s for weaseling out of a bet, again.” It was Kalvin’s turn to grin. “But don’t tell your dad I hit you.”

  Jaekob rolled his eyes. “Now, neither of us has dinner, and both our gold pouches were in my sack. What should we do?”

  “I only had silver. C’mon, we’ll go back to the same stands and you can use your father’s name to get us ingredients for free.” Kalvin turned to head back the way they had come.

  Jaekob didn’t move.

  “What is it, now?” Kalvin looked back at him over his shoulder.

  “I’m not using my dad’s name to steal from the merchants. Our people have little enough as it is without me running around taking more than I can pay for.”

  Kalvin let out a sigh, and the corners of Jaekob’s lips twitched. “This is an old argument. You know the Council will cover the expense. What’s the use of having a father who leads the Council if you can’t use it to get a meal, now and then? You’d better get used to it, you know.”

  Jaekob spun around without replying and stormed toward a wide tunnel on the vast market chamber’s far side.

  Kalvin jogged to catch up and then fell into step beside him. “I’m sorry. I know you think they’ll need all the supplies they can get, when the war comes, but everyone says it’s not going to come to that. Plus, we’re totally safe here. These walls have never seen an enemy get through.”

  Jaekob grunted. “So far. That doesn’t mean they’ll never get through, and it doesn’t mean we should take advantage of people. Besides, I have no interest in leading the Council. You know that.”

  They dodged half a dozen of the tough little pull-carts the wealthier people used in Safeholme. The carts were crafted from basalt, a strong and lightweight igneous stone with many large air pockets. Strong, but brittle. It was the weight and ease of crafting them that made them popular among those wealthy enough to afford them.

  Mirroring his own thoughts, Kalvin said, “It would be ni
ce if everyone could afford wagons like those, or for enough extra cloth to make a bag like yours. Cloth is too expensive to waste on bags—unless you’re the son of the First Councilor.”

  “I think my father will be angrier about someone stealing my bag than about losing dinner.” It wasn’t really fair, of course. He could already picture his father’s angry face on finding out. Losing the bag hadn’t been Jaekob’s fault, though. People stole things sometimes, and that was on them, not on victims such as he.

  Kalvin nodded. “Probably. Taking your bag was stupid, though. No one could confuse your family’s colors for someone else’s. Only the First Councilor’s family are allowed to use red, so who else could even use it once they stole it?”

  Jaekob agreed. It had been stupid. They spent the rest of their walk talking about other things, mercifully, but all too soon, they arrived at his home. The place was a fortress. S luxury fortress, perhaps.

  Leading to the entry courtyard was a long corridor that snaked back and forth, and chambers within its walls allowed the guardians to attack anyone invading through it. The tunnel was a testament to a more war-like time, when humans made war on dragons—and lost. The fortress had never yet been assaulted, but it had been carved out from a granite deposit, almost impossible to break through. Granite also contained the essence of volcanic stone, which made it easy for the enchanters to strengthen its walls so invaders couldn’t dig through into the fortress itself, or so he’d been told in the short time he’d been Awakened—eight years all together.

  Jaekob nodded to the uniformed guard at the front gate as they went through, but he didn’t slow down to talk. All the saluting and formality made it pointless to try to have a conversation with the guardians, or with any of his father’s servants, for that matter.

  After they were out of earshot, Kalvin grinned and said, “Your father is going to skin your hide when he finds out about the bag.”

  “Then you don’t know Mikah very well. He thinks because he works hard keeping our people safe down here, we’re entitled to a little more.”

  “A lot more, but I agree with him.”

  “The point is, we aren’t safer down here, and that’s only one reason why I don’t want to follow in his footsteps. He’ll be more angry about a late meal than the bag, I’d bet a basalt boat on it.”

  “You don’t even know what a boat is.”

  “I do too. My mother knew. Does yours?”

  “Careful, buddy. You’re just lashing out at me because you’re scared about the war coming. I get that. I’m scared, too, but you know the Spirit Pool keeps us safe. No one can get through the wards unless they have our blood in them, and the war above can’t reach us if humans can’t find us. You need to lighten up.” He stuck his foot out and Jaekob almost fell on his face to the stone floor.

  Jaekob scowled as he caught his balance. “You’re light enough for both of us. Someone has to take something seriously, and that sure isn’t you. Now, knock it off and let’s go get some more gold from my father. He’s going to want to eat a meal, after all.”

  “Of course I keep it light. Someone has to keep you from living in your room with the candles off and the curtains shut. If you had your way, no glowshroom light would get in, either, so your room could be as dull as your sense of humor.”

  Jaekob laughed. Part of him wondered if his friend was right, but it was hard to be cheery when an apocalyptic war was coming whether he wanted it to or not. Far too many people wanted that war and a single dragon like him had little hope of stopping it. “More likely I’d be in my ‘other room,’ if you know what I mean.”

  “Making sculptures from ore with your dragon’s breath and a hammer, yeah. Your workshop is coming along nicely. People are talking about the sculptures you have me sell for you.”

  “Shhh…” Jaekob said, putting a finger to his lips. “If anyone finds out what I’m doing, Mikah will hear it and put a stop to it. He thinks blacksmithing is a foolish hobby for the future First Councilor.”

  “Have you told him you don’t want to follow in his footsteps? It wouldn’t be so bad if your father would just let us Rise.”

  Jaekob snorted as they rounded the corner to the First Councilor’s chambers. “You’ve been reading those pamphlets again, haven’t you? Next thing, you’ll be spouting bad poetry about how it’s the dragons’ manifest destiny to Rise and be the guardians of the Earth, like in the old legends.”

  Knowing Kalvin, he probably had other things in mind, though, such as the up above, where young dragons like them could soar for hours, catching thermal updrafts left and right all day long, dancing in colored circles with all the other men and women of the burrow, and with room enough not to crash into one another and no walls to block them in. Plus, there was daytime up there. Seeing a sunrise would almost be worth the price of getting involved in the wars up on top. Almost.

  He waved at his father, who had been bent over writing a letter. Mikah smiled at his son and stood to greet them both. “I see no sack, son. Where’s dinner, and how did you lose that? You’ll lose more supporters than bags, if you keep being irresponsible.”

  Kalvin snorted. “Some other man’s son is eating the missing meal from the missing bag. It got stolen while we were, um, distracted.”

  Jaekob elbowed him in the ribs, fighting back a grin. Thank goodness for Kalvin, there was no way he would manage life without him.

  Jaekob sat next to his father while the council debated. Some of it was interesting, like the discussions on how to improve distribution on the crops. With so many varieties of fungus growing in different regions in the burrows, each with different nutritional values, it was a logistics nightmare making sure everyone had equal access to a wide enough variety to stay healthy.

  But when they talked about preparing for the war, he felt his pulse quicken. The Council was so eager to Rise, just like the rest of the people, rushing headlong into whatever war above had caused the dragons to Awaken. He hoped in his heart that they wanted to fly more than they wanted to exert their role as leaders of all the Pures.

  Darren, a Councilor in the pro-war faction, was making a fiery speech about honor and duty, and it was all Jaekob could do to sit still and look attentive instead of rolling his eyes or walking out in disgust. Darren said, “You know as well as I do that we have to fulfill our duty. Who else will lead the Crown of Pures, if not us? The Elves? Ha!”

  Mikah leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, and drummed his fingers on the rectangular council table. “We weren’t due to wake up for another century, Darren. We also awoke over a century ago for a few years, but that was a human war. And again, thirty or so years later, and that too was a human war. They’ve grown advanced enough to wage wars that can drag us from our slumber. I’m sure this one is more of the same—just humans killing humans, as they always have. Our duty is to protect our kind, not meddle in the affairs of humans.”

  Darren frowned and stood from the table. “The last time, the evil ones would have won, had we not stopped them from summoning all the Pures.”

  “We still don’t know how they learned the rituals. Are we so sure we destroyed that knowledge once and for all?”

  “But we meddled then,” Darren replied, “and it saved millions of those humans you seem to be ignoring. Their lives have value, too, don’t they? And what if they really have re-learned how to summon the Pures—that includes us.”

  Jaekob could take it no longer. Fists clenched, he blurted out, “That’s just foolish!”

  Mikah put a hand on Jaekob’s chest and growled a warning. Darren was too powerful to insult for so little reason, he seemed to be saying.

  Jaekob pursed his lips, but he submitted to his father’s iron will, slouching his shoulders and looking down. “What I meant to say is that we killed the evil ones trying to bind the Crown of Pures—the Pure council—and then we destroyed the records and artifacts they had gathered in the human city of Berlin. No one could have survived. The ancient roads to drawing us out are now closed to the humans.”

  Darren smirked and puffed his chest out, nose rising in the air arrogantly. “Not so closed, young man. How can we be sure of that when here we are, Awakened and talking before our time? We’ve been Awakened twice before in the last hundred years. Did you know that the last time that had happened was half a millennium before? And the time before that was when Rome fell.”

  “Those were human wars, too,” Jaekob muttered, still looking down. He hated being submissive to the Councilors, but they were his elders and had earned the right, and probably knew better than he did. Maybe. They sure weren’t acting like it, though.