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Dragon Slayer

Noble Romance Publishing, LLC

www.nobleromance.com

Dragon Slayer

ISBN 978-1-60592-066-5

Cover Art by Fiona Jayde

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any existing means

without written permission from the publisher. Contact Noble Romance Publishing,

LLC at PO Box 467423, Atlanta, GA 31146.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual

events is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination

and used fictitiously.

Book Blurb

A Dragon's Curse

Griall must find the woman who can release him from his curse before he becomes a

Death Beast like his father. Even if the man inside him craves the Dragon Slayer's touch,

he knows she must destroy the beast who shares his skin before it's too late.

A Slayer's Pride

Xara cannot escape the lie upon which her life is built. A Slayer who has never fought a

dragon, she’ll never feel feel strong enough to be the one Griall seeks. Surely, a Slayer

wouldn’t allow herself to love a beast! Xara must find a Slayer’s power to kill this

dragon before his curse destroys them both.

Fiona Jayde

Chapter One

"You were a fool to make that bargain."

The ale flowed thick and bitter over Griall's tongue. "’Tis done."

Across the round table, with armguards over his massive biceps, Andar tipped

back his mug, tilting the dragon's head etched deep into the wooden stein. Its empty

snake eyes took Griall back to that reptile face, pale wrinkled skin under the white

tangle of hair. He had another moon cycle until the Wizard's tourney.

"Your part in this is simple."

Andar's dark solemn eyes met his. "Destiny is never simple."

Griall drank deeply before glancing about the tavern known as Dragon's Mug,

where the dirt packed floor was freshly swept and the small fire pit spat out flames and

grease smoke. The slab of meat above it hadn't been charred enough—the beast inside

him ached to roast it to perfection.

The dragon in him grew stronger every day. As he’d done for the past winter,

Griall fought it back, wondering if his father did the same, and his father before that.

The Clan of the Black Dragon, fierce warriors foolish enough to have bargained with the

Fanged Wizard . . . paying for doing so for centuries with their souls.

Once more, Andar lifted his mug, his wrists and forearms wrapped in thick

leather—tough enough to withstand a blow yet supple enough to allow one's wrist to

merge with steel. His weathered face was solemn, his dark eyes tired yet intense. Even

inside the tavern, he sat with his back to the wall, watching for any foe that may have

escaped his Druid senses.

In that regard, at least, being born with a mix of dragon and human blood had

been a blessing. Griall didn't need armor when his scales could withstand a sword's

cold kiss.

Beyond the fire pit, the barman made his way around the tables, slopping strong

smelling ale into uplifted cups. Fortune had smiled on the Dragon's Mug. The barman

may have had three fingers on his hand and a limp that caused the ale to splatter, but

Dragon Slayer

with the tourney near, many a warrior stopped here to rest by on their journey to the

Blackrock Mountain.

"You'll know if she's the one." Griall dipped his head. Only a Dragon Slayer

could set him free. With Druid magic, Andar may have found her in this tavern.

"I'll tell you what I can." His friend set down his mug and challenged Griall with

a moment’s silence. Even a Druid—one who could see destiny— would not affirm a fate

until a person lived it. "There was no reason for the Fanged Wizard to agree."

Griall forced away the small tendrils of guilt gathering in his throat. "A Dragon

Slayer could keep him fed for centuries. And I am still strong enough to resist the

Wizard's magic.” The beast inside him shuddered. “I went to see him, in his keep.”

The Druid’s dark eyes widened. “You hadn’t told me this.”

It wasn’t the beast that shuddered this time, remembering the press of darkness

on his mind. “I allowed him to feed on me in exchange for six moon cycles to find this

Slayer.” Griall didn’t know how long he would be able to hold back the beast inside

him. For now, while he could still control the dragon, the Fanged One couldn’t use

magic to devour his soul. As the dragon got stronger, the Wizard would be able to use

the blood of Griall’s ancestors to tap into the darkness of the beast and enslave him, as

he had enslaved his father. To feed on his soul while turning him into a weapon of rage

and destruction.

"You are prepared to die if the Dragon Slayer defeats you?"

"Yes."

"Then you damn her as well."

The dragon stirred, heating the fire in his veins. "She will be strong enough to

fight against his magic." Again, he forced the beast in him to quiet. "If the Wizard lacks

my strength, he won’t be able to control her. He’ll need her blood, willingly given, to

links his will to hers." Same as when Griall’s forefather had given his blood in exchange

for riches, damning his offspring.

Again, Andar's calm eyes met his. "Your father threw himself into the cliffs."

Fiona Jayde

"Call me a coward then." He told himself he chose to die a warrior's death, but in

truth he didn't know if he was strong enough to take his own life as his father had done.

The Druid offered him a tired smile. "Even if this woman is the Dragon Slayer—"

"You want to know about the Dragon Slayer?” The limping barman spilled more

ale in their mugs.

Andar nodded his thanks. “You know of whom we speak?”

“That I do, bless my mother's grave.” His voice was that of a born tale teller. "The

Dragon Slayer is none other but my sister. Saved me from the Green Beast when I was

but a lad." He wiggled his misshapen hand as if to prove his words. "You will not find a

braver, stronger warrior. Why just two moons ago—"

Griall couldn’t tell what made his senses prickle, making the beast inside him

stir. It was as if somebody's gaze caressed his skin.

He caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. The flash of hair that escaped

her hood burned brighter than the fire. Just as he turned to look at her, the woman

tucked the tousled strands back into the coarse wool of her hood. And with a daring tilt

of her chin, she met his gaze, her eyes the color of emeralds, rare and bright and pure.

The barman's voice faded to an annoying buzz.

She stood tall, taller then most females, dressed simply, with no frills, more like a

man than a young woman. Breeches gartered over shapely calves, a long tunic slit on

the side to allow freedom of movement. No jeweled girdle to draw attention to her

waist, yet somehow, Griall could see his hands encircling it. Long sleeves fell loosely

from her elbows and probably hid weapons, just as her cape hid the twin swords

behind her back. Above each shapely shoulder, he saw the simple, leather-bound hilts.

The barman hadn't stopped speaking, telling his tale in a singsong voice. Griall

watched those jewel-colored eyes narrow in anger as she accepted a mug from an older

woman and allowed herself to be loosely embraced. Tense, nervous. For a swift

moment, Griall hoped it was because of him, because she felt the same tensions that

hardened every muscle in his body, the same promise he wouldn’t allow himself to

keep.

Fiona Jayde - Dragon Slayer.pdf

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