The Warder's Dragon

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Warder’s Dragon - Book 2: The Warders Series

  Copyright © 2006 Viola Grace

  ISBN: 1-55410-630-3

  Cover art and design by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books

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  www.extasybooks.com

  Viola Grace

  To my sister, who didn’t freak out when she learned what I was writing.

  The Warder’s Dragon 1

  Chapter One

  he ancient house rocked with light, laughter, and the occasional burst of magical energies. The somber stones were decked out with brightly colored balloons and the fairies in the garden reeled in drunken circles around the windows and doors. They wanted to join the fun. T

  Anryn Warder looked around the room and smiled at the guests that had gathered to celebrate the engagement of her cousin Albina, and her fiancé Imaran. The mix was a bizarre blend of human and magical creatures. The wards that were set around the estate would wipe the memories of the humans as they left, transforming the faces of the djinn women and the elves into normal, if beautiful, humans.

  Which was a handy thing, as some of the more inebriated guests were comparing species-specific physiques. A ‘how many breasts do you have?’ contest was underway in the foyer under the watchful eye of the Lakin portraits. The old gents

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  in the paintings had never had such a show.

  “I can’t thank you enough for this shower Anni! I was never expecting anything like this.” Albina wandered over with a glass of wine in her hand. She was glowing. Literally.

  “Alby, you’re quite welcome. What have you been up to? You are lit up like a Christmas tree.” The snicker was unmistakable.

  “Oh, I was just having a conversation with Imaran’s mother, Delileh. She wanted to look at my markings in front of other djinn witnesses.” Not only was Alby’s face flaming, her hair was glowing in the afternoon sun. The nearby paintings sparkled in the luminescence cast by her braided tresses.

  When Anryn and Albina were first learning to cast wards, Albina made a mistake in her focus. Her spell blew up in her face and she had to spend the rest of her life with glowing, magic-sensitive hair. It was Anni’s favorite point to tease her cousin with.

  “So basically, a group of djinn women cornered you and said ’Show us your boobs’. What did you do?” The giggles were coming fast and furious; she fought desperately to keep her face straight.

  “I flashed them.” She took a hefty slug of the wine that one giggling dryad was serving to the crowd. She watched the dryad and asked her cousin, “So, how is your mom enjoying the

  The Warder’s Dragon 3

  party?”

  “She’s having the time of her life. And since she is a couple of hundred years old, that really means something.” Anryn was driving, so she stuck to soda.

  Smiling, she watched her mother flit among the other women. Mylawith looked not a day over twenty-four. Her delicate green skin had been bequeathed to her daughter, as well as her bright green eyes. Hair that was a strange combination of green, gold and brown rippled down her back. She preferred the solitude of the forest, but the company of other magical creatures always warmed her.

  Anryn’s black hair had come from her father, a warder who worked to keep the old-growth forests from predation by logging companies. Her mother had taken one look at the handsome mage and jumped out of a tree and onto his startled form.

  Dominick had been astonished to have the warm womanly body drop on him, and as she began to grind herself against him, he had decided to accede to the lady’s wishes. He visited her every chance he got until she announced she was pregnant. For one month he had stayed away, frantically making phone calls. Laying claim to a portion of old-growth forest was not a task for the bureaucratically challenged.

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  Then, one day, a building crew arrived in a nearby meadow. They excavated with extreme care and using sprayed concrete and a frame of metal, they created an underground warren. They back-filled the site and the meadow grew again.

  Dominick Warder made a place in his lady’s world, and that is where his daughter was born one winter night. They couldn’t get married right away, as Mylawith did not exist to the human world, but a binding ceremony with Dominick holding his daughter brought a wild Warder party to the deep forest in the dead of winter.

  “So, how many have RSVP’d already?” She dragged her mind back from her father’s favorite bedtime story and focused on Albina again.

  “Around six hundred.” This was about right for a Warder wedding. It was a favorite place for them to shop for men.

  “All races are being represented?”

  “Through our family alone.” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. The Warders were bound by law, to mate outside their own clan. This kept their most desirable talent from being used for evil, as it had at one time in the past.

  The Warders had made a bid to take over Realm by starving out the population and only allowing access to those who supported them. The Dragon Council had collected an army and broke the wards, killing all males of the clan, and

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  imprisoning the women. The women were tried, put to the Question and those who were guilty of planning the attacks were put to death. Only seven women survived. Seven Warders.

  They were given to the clans they had wronged, and their bloodlines were forbidden from inter-marrying. Warders had successfully married and produced offspring with twenty races, humans being one of them. They moved from Realm to earth, and used mirrors to go back and report to the Dragon Council every five years.

  Their family crossed over twenty races, but no one could stop the ties that bound the Warders together.

  Anryn started to set her cousin‘s mind at ease about the wedding preparations. “Music wise, I have the Goblin Rulz playing at the reception.”

  Albina‘s blue eyes danced in delight. “I love them!” She was practically hopping in her chair. “How did you get them? I thought they were booked.”

  “Never underestimate sleeping around in your youth.” Anryn winked slowly and watched the light dawn in her cousin’s eyes.

  “You mean that you…?”

  “Six years ago. But he and I are still friends.” All of Anryn’s lovers became her friends after the relationship was over. No one could hold a grudge against her perpetual cheer.

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  “Wow, if I had friends like that…well, Imaran wouldn’t be marrying me.”

  They both laughed. It was a well known fact that djinn preferred virgins. That she was no longer in that condition was strictly due to her fiancés actions.

  “Delileh seems happy enough with her son’s choice.” The djinn women were mingling a little, occasionally making forays to the snack table. The stern matron in question was holding court in her daughter-to-be’s home.

&n
bsp; “That’s what she said once she saw the family’s markings. It isn’t like she could deny they are Imaran’s. Each djinn has his own pattern and this is definitely his.” She peered down into her shirt and shrugged. “I haven’t learned to read them yet. I can’t get beyond the ABC’s of the djinn script yet. Goblin was much easier.”

  “You’re drunk.” The happy bride-to-be was listing gently to the right. Anryn held out a steadying hand and held her.

  “Yes, I am.” A blinding smile broke free. “I really do love him, you know. He makes me feel…happy.”

  “Yes, Alby. I know.” She stood and scooped her cousin up in her arms. Albina was as light as a feather. Anryn quickly walked into the dining room and through the mirror, taking her cousin to Realm.

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  The Djinn village was over three hundred miles away. She stomped her foot on the ground and sent a wave of power through Albina. Moments later, a djinn appeared in front of her. “Albina, what is wrong? Anryn, is she alright?”

  His face was concerned, the black eyes searching her burden for any sign of injury. Once in his lifetime was enough. He took her gently from her cousin.

  “She’s fine, but my mom got her drunk.” He grinned in relief, chuckling as Alby burped and began to snore against his chest.

  The twinkling in his black eyes let her know that he had figured out what happened. “She had to deal with my mother, did she?”

  “Yep, and the rest of her attendants. She had to show them the djinn marks, and promptly got loaded after that. Can you keep her with you here for a while? I want to kick out the party goers and clean up a bit.”

  “I can do that when we get home.”

  She blinked and smiled ruefully. Oh, right. Magic. He used to be Albina’s housekeeper. Lords, if only she could find a guy who did housework.

  “Yeah, ok. Give me six hours to get rid of the stragglers.” She turned to leave, “Oh, and Alby came out of the bridal shower with quite a haul. Thirty pounds of gold jewelry, and seventeen pieces of edible underwear. Hope you’re hungry.”

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  She winked at him in the mirror and passed through to the bright tune of his laughter.

  Her cousin was a lucky woman.

  The Warder’s Dragon 9

  Chapter Two

  “o how was the shower on Saturday?” Bethany was as chipper as always. The perfect secretary. She would dump hot coffee in your lap if you called her an executive assistant. S

  “It was a blast. Any messages for me?” She moved past the reception desk and nodded as she took the sheaf of pink papers with one hand and balanced her coffee with the other. “Yeesh, serves me right for taking a Friday off.”

  She dipped and levered the door to her office open with her elbow. Sitting at her pressboard desk she flipped through the notes and sorted them by urgency. Several were queries about her schedule over the next few weeks. Anryn worked into the stack and found the note that she was looking for.

  It was the call from the dressmaker for Albina’s wedding. The woman was a miracle worker. The lesser known fact that she was a spider goblin was the only thing that kept her from being a top

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  international designer. Well, that and the extra sets of arms that she had. She swiftly dialed the number.

  “Morcalla? Hey. How’s it going?”

  “Great Anryn. Business is booming.”

  “So, you called? A status report perhaps?” Anryn dug out her day planner and started to write in her appointments for the next few weeks.

  “You know it. The dresses are coming along well. They should be done in plenty of time.”

  “You know that I am going to check up on you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. But I tell you, those seven layers of Warder formal wear are hell to embroider.”

  “Yes, but you are being compensated handsomely.”

  “Indeed, I can’t argue with that. When are you running the next wards?”

  “Later this week. Do you have a date for the concrete?”

  “Next Tuesday. The crew is roughing out the foundation this week.”

  “Fine, then I’ll call you on Thursday and set them before Sunday.”

  “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  Tears pricked Anryn’s eyes. “Yes I do. Just remember to recommend me to your friends and family. I don’t work cheap.” She forced a laugh and heard an echo on the other end of the call.

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  “I don’t either, take care.”

  “Take care. Bye Morcalla.”

  As she hung up Anryn took a deep breath. All that Morcalla wanted was a set of wards that would let her have human guests in her house without freaking them out. She enjoyed the company of men and didn’t enjoy it as they ran screaming from her bed when she left the glamour off. The wards would keep the glamour in place until they left her presence.

  She also was afraid of paparazzi, afraid that her glamour wouldn’t hold. The wards that Anryn had planned would keep any lens from focusing into any window. It would give her privacy and security.

  She drummed her fingers on the desk. Alright, back to work. She took out her day planner and began to schedule appointments. Being a massage therapist was not a nine to five job. Each client had a set time that they preferred to be treated and would not deviate from it.

  She called up her normal Monday client list and had several happy people that she would be seeing, starting in less than one hour. She had a new client on the list for today- a businessman. His appointment was in his offices.

  Decklyn Ringler was a CEO of some company or other. His executive assistant had called on Friday for an appointment, and had been

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  disappointed to find that it was her day off. So she asked for her employer to be worked into Anryn’s schedule late in the day. No one else would do.

  She picked up her folding table, her bag with her essentials and left for her first appointment for the day. She worked on any number of people, some old, some young, and some who had medical conditions that made her wince in sympathy. But she did her job. All day, every day.

  It was a relief to see her schedule and note that only one name was not crossed off. She hauled the table to the elevator and pressed the top floor button. It was thirty flights in the air when she came out and saw that the entire upper floor was glass. Not one exterior wall marred the beauty of the skyline. The interior walls were arranged like spokes on a wheel, with the receptionist holding court in the center.

  She walked up to the reception desk and waited for the receptionist to notice her. “Anryn Warder to see Decklyn Ringler. We have a five o’clock appointment.”

  “Please, have a seat over there. He’ll be with you in a few minutes.” She dismissed the visitor and went back to typing a document with no particular urgency, to prove that she was far too busy to be answering questions.

  “I didn’t notice you announcing that I was here. Perhaps it slipped your mind.” She waited and

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  kept her even gaze on the little secretary trying to throw her weight around.

  She gave Anryn a hate filled glance and put one hand to her head set. “Mr. Ringler, there is a Miss Warder here to see you.” Her eyes widened with surprise as she was given her instructions.

  “Please come with me, Miss Warder.” She led the way down the hall to a conference room. It had the same panoramic view as the reception area.

  “Please get comfortable, can I get you anything?”

  “Where is the nearest restroom?”

  “There is one behind this panel.” She walked to the wall, and a panel slid back at the touch of her hand. It was well hidden, and Anryn wondered how many other doors were attached to this room. The receptionist stood and waited for her dismissal.

  “A soda would be great, and everything I need.”

  “I’ll only be a moment.”

  “Fine.”
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  She flipped the massage table upright and secured the legs into place. One client on the floor in her lifetime had been enough.

  The receptionist returned with a can and a glass, and she left them on the conference room table and quit the room. Anryn looked around for

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  any chance item to give her a clue as to Mr. Ringler’s occupation. There was nothing.

  No magazines, no documents, and no workstations of any kind marred the glass and steel of the room. She shivered and looked around once more. She hated waiting.

  She tried to occupy herself. She wandered over to the bathroom that had been pointed out and ran warm water in the sink. She sat the bottle of oil that she used on her clients into the sink. She opened the ‘client’ pack that she retrieved from her car, after dropping the sheets and towels that she used on her previous client in the laundry bag that she kept in her vehicle for such a purpose.

  The laundry found her fastidiousness in packaging of the sheets, towels and pillows excessive, but since she was prepared to pay for the extra work, they had stopped commenting after her first payment.

  Just as she was snapping the sheet over the table, her new client arrived. Decklyn Ringler. It was no wonder that he had called Relaxed Realms Massage Therapy. He was a dragon.

  Relaxed Realms specialized in non-human clients. It took a certain amount of strength to work on supernatural creatures.

  “You are the massage therapist?” His brow rose in astonishment. She was tall, slender and looked incapable of applying the necessary force to

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  engage in therapeutic massage. Her olive skin made her look Mediterranean at first glance, the dryad was only there if you knew to look for it.

  “Yep. You would be Mr. Ringler?”