L J Andrews [Andrews - The Ward of Wyvern

Dragon Mage

The Ward of Wyverns

LJ Andrews

Dedicated to CharliJo, who loves her dragon.

Table of Contents

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Prologue

Where do the stories come from? The tales about magic, fire-breathing dragons, valiant knights defeating the beasts for the fair damsel? Have you ever paused to wonder the origin?

One might feel a certain amount of surprise to learn the legends come from a seed of truth. Can dragons breathe fire? Perhaps. Are they beasts with armored scales craving the taste of human flesh? Again, perhaps.

Wherever a tale of the wyvern is concerned, magic and myths are never far behind. The stories are alive in fairy tales, childrens books, in knights and kings. But this story, well now, the beasts and powers of legend may just be painted in a light you have never imagined. If dragons existed, where have they gone? If sorcery once reigned on the earth, has it simply vanished?

It would not be reaching to suppose you are about to find out.

Part One

The Ward

Chapter 1

Montana, USA77 years later

Adrenaline boiled in my veins when the car bolted along the empty highway. The sky was blanketed in obsidian night, and the air was thick with the heat of the summer. I pulled my body outside the passenger window of Mr. Polls Camaro. My jaw-length blond hair whipped about my face while Angie squealed delightfully from the backseat. Leaning over the passenger seat, she slithered her hand toward me, swaying slightly as she handed over a half-drunk bottle. There wasnt a pause, and I took it willfully, chugging back the burning liquid until it numbed my tongue.

Kent swerved a bit but found his place in the center of the road again, and by the grace of whatever, my instincts were still sharp enough to grip the top of the car before I splattered in pieces along the road. The wave of new adrenaline only brought a hearty laugh deep in my throat. Angie cheered as though Id just performed a feat of incredible acrobatics when I slapped the top of the car. Angie puckered her lips, her eyes scanning methe single glance suggested so many things. It only brought a wilder desire to push the limits more.

My dads going to kill me, Kent cheered, hollering out his opened window.

Open her up, Kent, Angie purred, her lips finding his earlobe, adding more lead to Kents foot. The car sped into the night, and I closed my eyes, accepting the power behind the air. Nature had always been a part of my life. It was the only place I was truly free. Naturally, as we sped along the winding road up into the back forest near the Montana-Idaho border, I embraced the freedomnever worrying about the cost. The forest spoke to something deep in my soul, like a missing piece of my heart could be found beyond the trees. While I balanced precariously outside the window, time slowed in a way. I studied the trees, the sharp pine needles, every stone pebbled along the forest floor. Of course, the odd sensation was just a side effect of my muddled brain soaked in alcohol, but it released a feral part of my soul.

Releasing the roof, I gripped the door with my legs, clutching as tight as possible, and slowly spread my arms wide. My guttural cry of liberty was instantly ruined when the flashing lights burst like glowing jewels against the pitch night.

Kent swore loudly, but I just pounded the car harder. No, no, dont slow down, man.

Are you kidding me, Teag? Do you know whatll happen if I dont stop?

Rolling back into the car, I only smirked. Live a little! Whats your old man going to do to you? Ground you from the pool house for two days. Come on, go!

Go, Kent, Angie cheered, slapping his shoulders.

Kent growled under his breath a bit, but obliged. I celebrated with another drink. At least Kent had a clear mind so I could live the wild ride without my witsit made the night all the sweeter.

The lights behind the car flashed, now the sirens blared in the night. But on my direction, Kent sped on. The sleek, black restored car shot like a rumbling beast along the forest highway. With a breathy chuckle, I leaned over the seat, my heart pounding with life, and pulled Angies lips against my own. Her mouth was wet, and tasted like beer and salt, but I didnt care. She wanted more, but all I needed was the rapid touch to anchor me again in reality. Touch allowed me a moment to breathe through the raging thrill. Angie screamed with excitement when I released her, and she planted a kiss on Kents cheek as her reaction.

I laughed, a real laugh, though a prickling in the back of my head reminded me this was strike three.

And then a moment later I was out of the game.

Kent rounded the corner only to be met with three cruisers blocking the road. The spinning lights atop the cars blinded me for a moment. Kent slammed on the breaks, hard enough that Angie fell off the back bench and I slammed my forehead against the dash. Behind the Camaro the two cruisers blocked our retreat. Kents fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles glowing white in the dark. I groaned, flopped back against the seat, and rubbed the spreading ache over my head. The bottle had spilled along my clothes and reeked. It didnt matter; in a matter of thirty seconds I was ripped from the seat, each arm pressed behind my back, my face shoved against the cold, unforgiving asphalt.

I knew Kent would get off. His father didnt press charges against his own son, and hed been bailed out within the hour. Angie, last Id heard, got her first strike and was given community service at the county library. Pretty cushy. But mewell, I was a frequent flyer, so once again I was dressed in a shirt and tie tucked behind the small defendant table waiting for the sentence to be explained.

Youre going to keep your mouth shut and take whatever deal the judge gives you. No smart remarks; youre looking at real time this go around. Were lucky we even have a deal on the table. Mr. Atwood snapped.

It wasnt right to roll my eyes, but whenever Atwood spoke I could hardly help myself against his nasally drone. Lionel Atwood didnt have anything to complain about. All my mishaps were no doubt financing his California beach house. Well, and there came the punch of guilt, Aunt Liz was financing it. Slowly, I dared glance over my shoulder. Liz was looking straight ahead, her hair peppered with grays and pulled tight in a bun. Id never seen Liz fancy herself up, but today shed found an old black dress that looked nice around her thin frame. Black, like she was mourning her lost-cause nephew. I wanted to ask what lengths shed taken to arrange for care of the other kids. Liz never had time to be alone, and being at the courthouse certainly wasnt her idea of a night out. I couldnt find the courage to meet her eye, let alone speak to her. The house Id been raised in was filled with foster childrensome had been interestingbut truthfully I wasnt one to form solid relationships. In all my seventeen years Id seen friends in the system filter into my life, only to go on to other homes. Not to mention my parents. Theyd up and died.