The Lost Dragon (The Dragon Hunters Book 1) Read online

  The Lost Dragon

  By Drako

  Copyright 2012

  Prologue

  Year 9,234 B.C.

  Chaos reigned supreme. This was a battlefield. The Spartans were expanding their territory, or so they thought. This wasn't the easy victory they'd thought. In the midst of this blood bath, two men fought side by side. Andreas had the only man in the army he trusted at his back, Kazarian. Andreas was the taller of the two, but only by a couple of inches. They were in full Spartan armor, a sword in their right hand and shield in their left. They were surrounded, but that wasn't new. They were trained for this.

  "You holding up back there?" Andreas asked, parrying a shot from a sword and slashing his attacker across the stomach.

  "I'm fine," Kazarian answered.

  "We gotta get out of this. We need room to take them out." Andreas blocked with his shield arm and stabbed the next attacker in the stomach, quickly withdrawing his sword.

  "Any suggestions on how to do that?" Kazarian kicked an attacker off, then slashed him across the face with his sword.

  "Yeah, I got an idea." Andreas turned and grabbed Kazarian by the vest of his armor, then jumped up high into the air, flipping over the large group surrounding them. The opposition could only look up in awe at the height Andreas achieved before he landed outside of their ranks, joining up with several allies.

  "Holy shit, how the hell did you do that?" Kazarian asked.

  "I guess it's true that I'm the son of a god," Andreas answered. "Now get ready."

  The opposing army had regained themselves, and charged in. Fortunately, Andreas and Kazarian had help this time, so they couldn't be surrounded. The Spartans also charged in, Andreas and Kazarian never separating. Their swords were red with blood, and it was only going to get worse. The two slashed their way through the onslaught, each one protecting the other and leading their unit through the chaos, even though they weren't officers at all; they were merely the fiercest, and there were certainly people taking notice.

  Battle is unpredictable, however, and the Spartans hadn't counted on reinforcements. Just when they seemed on the cusp of victory, the reinforcements showed. The Spartans were tired, though the idea of surrender didn't occur. They would continue to fight.

  "Shit!" Kazarian swore, "Who the hell are these people?"

  "Athenians," Andreas answered coldly, his defiant focus falling upon the body armor worn by the encroaching mass.

  Kazarian spat upon the ground, a little blood mixed with the spittle, as he considered the numerical advantage of their enemy,

  "Well, this isn’t going to be pleasant. So what is our strategy?"

  "You know Ares' rules. We don't surrender, we don't negotiate. We fight for the honor of Sparta." Andreas wiped sweat and blood from his brow with his arm. "And today, it looks like we'll die fighting for Sparta."

  Kazarian looked hard to the fast approaching hordes and then Andreas. "If we're going to die here, then I have to do something one last time."

  Andreas grimaced at the implications of his closest friend and greatest love’s words and turned his head to see the diminished numbers of the Spartan unit who similarly talked amongst themselves; perhaps saying their farewells in preparation for the Athenian onslaught. He smiled his acceptance of the end and looked deep into Kazarian’s hazel green eyes.

  Years filled with trust and love forged through the most strenuous of combat training and battle, fighting side by side, back to back, and a shared intimacy were reflected between them as they gazed into each other's eyes. They understood that the forces they stood against were too great to offer any hope of survival. They would be dead before their own reinforcements could arrive.

  They removed their helmets and leaned in, their lips coming together for that one last kiss; all their love and emotion poured into it for what they couldn't deny would be the last kiss they would share. They broke apart, eyes still locked on each other for several seconds, before they finally put their helmets on again and raised their swords and shields. They turned and the unit charged in.

  The battle was fierce and the losses were great; the lovers fought with all the fervor of the Spartan spirit. Their comrades were inspired by these two brave and fierce warriors, but the numbers they faced were too great to be overcome by passion alone.

  The Spartan force dwindled as the legions of Athena overran them, but still the pair fought on. Andreas lost his chest plate in the fray, revealing a black dragon shaped birthmark that stretched the length of his left pectoral, at the exact moment that an Athenian blade pierced Kazarian’s chest from behind.

  Andreas screamed his denial as Kazarian fell to the ground, mortally wounded. As the blood flowed up through Kazarian’s mouth, Andreas let out a howl of pure rage and swung his sword with all his might at the warrior that had taken his love. The sword struck and cut through the warrior’s neck, beheading him. Finally defeated by the sight of his fallen comrade and lover, Andreas dropped his sword and turned from the conflict, falling beside Kazarian and cradling his head into his arms.

  Andreas wept at the loss of his soul mate, no longer concerned that the enemy was bearing down on him to likewise cut his life short. The warriors encircled the pair with their weapons held high, meaning to strike Andreas where he knelt, but they were brought to a halt by a dazzling burst of light that appeared behind their target. The Athenians backed away in fear and confusion as the light faded to reveal the war god Ares and his female counterpart Athena.

  "Stop!" Athena bellowed. "This battle will stop now."

  Ares walked over to Andreas. "You are a child of the Black Dragon God. We cannot allow you to die here."

  Andreas, eyes blurred with tears, looked up. "What about him? Can you bring him back?"

  Ares looked to Athena, who shook her head.

  "I'm sorry," Ares told him. "He is mortal, and suffered a mortal's death. I cannot help him."

  Kazarian coughed up blood, returning Andreas' attention to him.

  "I will not leave him, not until he has passed and I can bury him properly," Andreas told him. "You had the power to stop this before he died. You let him die. I will remain here."

  Ares couldn't argue with him. He could not take him against his will, and his timing had been off. Andreas looked into Kazarian's brown eyes one more time, whispering softly to him. Kazarian couldn't speak, though he tried and coughed up blood. The life slowly drained from him, and when he passed, Andreas let out the cry of a warrior who has lost his inspiration, his life, his love.

  One

  Year 2004 A.D.

  “I’m seriously irritated.”

  Andreas Damone stood on a rooftop in St. Louis, Missouri, wiping blood off the blade of a katana. A tall, tanned man with short blond hair and dark blue eyes, his handsome face was only slightly disfigured by a frown. The light blue shirt he wore was torn in half, showing his well-chiseled chest and torso. No one was on the roof with him, which was fortunate. Humans didn’t exactly believe in the supernatural these days, so he’d be unlikely to get away with killing a vampire. At that moment, he heard a familiar laugh in his head.

  You’re the one that decided to go out tonight. Perhaps you should be more careful.

  Jarel Damone, his father, was obviously still watching over him.

  “I was careful,” Andreas told him. “The son of a bitch just had to do something to ruin my night. He tore my shirt because he couldn’t do anything else to hurt me.”

  Stop toying with them. These rogues may be somewhat cowardly, but that doesn’t mean they’re harmless.

  “I was trying to see if they had a bigger purpose here. There’s too many of them here in the city.”


  Hunt a little more and then rest for the night. Don’t overwork yourself.

  Andreas scowled but said nothing. Jarel stopped watching him for the moment. Andreas absently rubbed his hand over the dragon shaped birthmark on the left side of his chest, his mind floating back to the night he first met his father.

  He was standing at the edge of the ocean, waiting for a response from the war god, Ares. He could see the large island Ares and Athena were on at the moment. At 18 years old, he was finally going to meet his father, the Black Dragon God. All these years he’d had a feeling his father was divine, but that didn’t mean much. The gods didn’t tend to look after their illegitimate children, and due to his blond hair he always figured Zeus was his father. Just today, he’d found that not to be true.

  He looked down at his black dragon shaped birthmark. He should’ve figured that out long before this. He’d been in the military for years, ever since childhood really. After all, he was a Spartan child, and Spartan male children were basically bred for the military. He was a damn good soldier, and all these years he’d kept his birthmark hidden. It was just unfortunate that the one day that it was revealed was the one day Ares was actually riding with the Spartans. So now he stood on a beach, without his armor or weapons and wearing a dark blue chiton. As he stood there, Ares’ voice floated to his mind.

  He has agreed to meet you, and provided he sees the mark, he will take you into his service. I’m not sure what that entails, but I don’t think he cares one way or the other what goes on in human wars. He’s the father of the supernatural, so he has other things to worry about.

  Andreas sighed. “Whatever gets me the hell away from you.”

  Ares fell silent. Andreas felt a strange pull on his body and in a flash found himself standing on the island. Two other men were standing nearby, but he was focused on the man standing with Ares and Athena. He was taller than the war god and goddess and at least a good four inches over Andreas, who stood over six and a half feet tall. He was definitely eye catching, and not just because of his height. He had light brown skin and strangely silver eyes that were currently narrowed as he looked across the clearing at Andreas. This man was just power embodied. Andreas could feel it even where he stood and with no sense of the supernatural at all. And his appearance was more striking than that of Ares. He was definitely good looking, which Andreas had no problem admitting. There were no lines in his face and he appeared to be young, but upon closer inspection, he could appear to be middle aged. Truly, he was ageless. He was literally as old as the universe itself, a child of Chaos, come into being at the same time as the earth, Gaea, and the sky, Uranus. Black fire embodied, no one crossed this god and lived. He had a small, secretive sect of worshipers and was generally known as a far more compassionate god than most, until provoked. The protector of man, the father of all supernatural creatures, it was said even Zeus didn’t dare to cross him.

  Andreas didn’t really register the gods’ conversation, but he did register the Black Dragon God calling him over. Andreas walked over and bowed before him, and he was sure he heard the god chuckle.

  “Rise up and let me see your face, and your mark,” he ordered in his low, deep, powerful voice.

  Andreas rose up and looked up into his eyes. His birthmark was already out in the open and the god’s eyes went straight to it. He smiled.

  “So tell me, boy, do you know who I am?” he asked.

  “You are the Black Dragon God, known by many names,” Andreas answered.

  “True, but do you know my true name?”

  Andreas shook his head.

  “The name bestowed upon me by Chaos herself is Jarel. I am indeed the Black Dragon God, black fire embodied, born with the rest of the universe and at the exact same moment as the Blue Dragon God, Zarel, blue fire embodied. Most importantly, I am your father. You will have to forgive my late entrance into your life, but it was your mother’s decision to keep me at bay. After 16 years, you were to be given the choice to either join me, or remain a human. Unfortunately, Spartan rules and laws didn’t allow your mother the chance to tell you this, as you have not been allowed near her recently. Fortunately Ares saw you today, or upon your death, I might have been tempted to wipe out that entire city.” He glared at Ares. “But now that you are here, the choice is yours. You can remain here with me, where you will be virtually immortal and will learn all about the world humans can never truly see. Or you can return to Sparta with no memory of me and live out your life as a normal mortal.”

  Andreas looked him right in the eye. “I would love the chance to remain here and get to know you.”

  Jarel smiled. “Then here you shall remain, and you shall have all the time you need to get to know me.”

  Andreas tore off the remainder of his shirt and let it fall, then waved his hand and watched it burn to ashes. Over 11,000 years had passed since that night on his father’s home, Solaris. He had served his father faithfully, and had pretty much loved him ever since he met him. To be as old as he was, Jarel seemed far closer to human than any other god. Andreas had no regrets about joining his father, and even now, he felt homesick. But tonight he had work to do. Times were a lot different from when he was serving in the Spartan army. His adversaries weren't human. He hunted the rogue vampire, creatures created by his father that had turned their back on his laws. He had plenty of work to do, as he had all these years. And it was time to get back to it.

  Two

  Andreas retired to his hotel room shortly before dawn. He’d taken down six more rogue vampires, which was rather high, and he’d learned nothing about why they were in the area. He came into his room and immediately stripped down while heading for the shower. He took a long, hot shower, cleaning the sweat and vampire blood off. He got out and oiled his skin, then wrapped a towel around his waist and headed out, discovering his father waiting in the room, sitting on his bed.

  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock?” Andreas asked, even though he wasn’t in the least surprised or irritated to see his father.

  Jarel shrugged. “You wouldn’t have heard me. You were in the shower.”

  “You could’ve at least announced your arrival.”

  “Call it a father’s prerogative, but showing up seems much easier. Besides, I sensed some turmoil in you. It made me leave home to visit you.”

  Andreas gave a sigh as he opened his suitcase. “I guess I’m just homesick. It’s been months since I was last on Solaris.”

  Jarel rolled his eyes. “Try again. You may be homesick, but something else is on your mind.”

  Andreas glared at him. “Stop reading my mind.”

  “I’m not. I just know you.”

  Andreas turned back to his suitcase, pulling out a pair of grey silk boxers. “I’m lonely. In all these years, I’ve never been married. I only had one serious relationship, after I came into your service. Honestly, I’ve never found anyone else that made me want to settle down, and you and I both know the disaster that relationship was. No one else invokes the kind of feelings in me that I had for Kazarian, but the one thing I crave is to settle down with someone. I love you, Father, but I just need something more. With Kazarian gone, I don't think I'll ever find it, but it doesn't stop the longing.”

  Jarel smiled. “I understand, son. Really I do. But I didn’t think I was keeping you so busy that you couldn’t find someone for yourself.”

  “I don’t just want a random wife or partner. I could’ve had loads of those.”

  “I’m not stupid,” Jarel told him. “Just because none of my children were exactly love children doesn’t mean I don’t understand the emotion.”

  “Do you mind turning around?” Andreas asked.

  Jarel gave him a dull stare. “You’re over eleven thousand years old and all of a sudden you’ve gotten modest?”

  “Not really, but it seemed polite.” Andreas dropped the towel and put on the boxers. “So, what else brings you off the island?”

  Jarel recognized that now wasn’
t the time to pursue the subject of Andreas’ love life any further. “I have an assignment for you. Something big is stirring here in St. Louis. I have someone I’ll need you to protect. Unfortunately, she’s a healer, so she doesn’t have much in the way of offensive capabilities.” He handed him a picture. “Cassandra Odele. She’s from a special line of healers blessed by Apollo, or so I’m told. Humans see her as a doctor. She doesn’t have many human patients, as she caters mostly to your kind.”

  “Is there any particular reason why we’re protecting her instead of Apollo?” Andreas asked.

  “Let’s be real. The Olympians are fucking morons. I have no idea what the hell Apollo is doing and frankly, I don’t care. She could be a tremendous help to us in this war against the rogues and besides that, the vampires are targeting her. Getting their hands on her healing blood and therein absorbing her power would cause us great problems in getting rid of them.”

  “So how do you want me to go about this?” Andreas asked.

  “Just go to her loft downtown. She’ll be expecting you. Give her your name and go from there,” Jarel answered.

  Andreas eyed Jarel suspiciously. “What are you up to? I see that glint in your eye.”

  “What glint? I’m merely giving you an assignment. Your brothers are on assignments of their own.”

  Andreas snorted. “I know you. You’re up to something.”

  Jarel stood up and looked down into his eyes. “I always have my own motives, but I told you all you need to know.” He turned away. “I’d better head home. Get to her during daylight hours. Take no chances with her life.” He vanished.

  Andreas looked at the picture. Cassandra was a pale beauty with dark brown hair and brown eyes. In the picture, her hair was tied back in a ponytail and she was smiling.

  “At least she’s not bad on the eyes,” Andreas muttered.