The Dragon Mage Collection Read online

  Dragon Mage

  Collection 1-5

  LJ Andrews

  Dedicated to CharliJo, who loves her dragon.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Part One: The Ward

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 12

  Part Two: The Queen

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Part Three: The Mage

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  THE QUEEN OF JADE

  Part One: The Mage

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Part Two: The Queen

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Part Three: The Mage

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Part Four: The Queen

  Chapter 23

  THE PRINCE OF NIGHT

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  THE MAGE OF KINGS

  Prologue: The High Priest

  Part One: The Dragon Mage

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Part Two: The Dragon Queen

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Part Three: The Gathering

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Part Four: The War of Ages

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  THE WAR OF AGES

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Author Note

  Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  For more information contact:

  www.ljandrews.com

  For rights inquiries contact:

  [email protected]

  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, children’s 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, USA

  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. Poll’s 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 wasn’t 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 I’d just performed a feat of incredible acrobatics when I slapped the top of the car. Angie puckered her lips, her eyes scanning me—the single glance suggested so many things. It only brought a wilder desire to push the limits more.

  “My dad’s 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 Kent’s 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 freedom—never 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 muddl
ed 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, don’t slow down, man.”

  “Are you kidding me, Teag? Do you know what’ll happen if I don’t stop?”

  Rolling back into the car, I only smirked. “Live a little! What’s 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 wits—it 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 Angie’s lips against my own. Her mouth was wet, and tasted like beer and salt, but I didn’t 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 Kent’s 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. Kent’s 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 didn’t 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 didn’t press charges against his own son, and he’d been bailed out within the hour. Angie, last I’d heard, got her first strike and was given community service at the county library. Pretty cushy. But me—well, 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.

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

  It wasn’t right to roll my eyes, but whenever Atwood spoke I could hardly help myself against his nasally drone. Lionel Atwood didn’t 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. I’d never seen Liz fancy herself up, but today she’d 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 she’d taken to arrange for care of the other kids. Liz never had time to be alone, and being at the courthouse certainly wasn’t her idea of a night out. I couldn’t find the courage to meet her eye, let alone speak to her. The house I’d been raised in was filled with foster children—some had been interesting—but truthfully I wasn’t one to form solid relationships. In all my seventeen years I’d seen friends in the system filter into my life, only to go on to other homes. Not to mention my parents. They’d up and died.

  It wasn’t a big deal—really—I didn’t have memories of my parents, so how could I miss them? I swallowed the knot in my throat, knowing I was lying to myself. I was lucky though. Aunt Liz was kind, and I wasn’t easy to deal with. Only for Aunt Liz’s sake did I finally relent and nod in agreement toward Atwood.

  The judge cleared his throat and called for me to rise. The portly man lifted one of his thick brows over his eyeglasses, giving a look I’d come to recognize.

  “Teagan Ward, you understand the charges laid against you?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” I muttered.

  Judge Swain took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. If I had grandparents, I would want them to look like Judge Swain. Despite being the man who was standing in the way of my freedom, Swain had these eyes that sort of dug through the walls around my heart and saw something else—like hope or something. At least, that’s what he’d done the last two visits to the courtroom.

  “Young man, this is your third offence in less than sixteen months. That’s a lot, Mr. Ward. If I had half a mind, due to the acceleration of your behavior, I’d put you in detention until twenty-one.” I swallowed hard, and glanced at the flat carpet. Aunt Liz sucked in a loud breath. “However,” Swain continued. “I’m prepared to offer one final chance, Mr. Ward. Would you care to hear my offer?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” I muttered, a hitch of bitterness breaking through my tone. Atwood cleared his throat, his beady eyes narrowing. I needed to cool down. With several deep breaths, I refocused, shoving the anger I’d always kept, until it was safely locked behind my inner walls.

  “I’ve accepted the plea deal offered by your attorney and the State, Mr. Ward. Finish high school in the reform program connected with Wyvern High School. Do you know the place?”

  I shook my head, my pulse raced in my neck. “No, Your Honor.” Leave my school? Start over with new people? I’d only just started to get close with Kent. Now, like always, another person would exit my life, never to return.

  Swain clicked his tongue and spoke only when I met his gaze. “Wyvern Willows is upstate an hour or so. Their reform program has helped numerous kids looking for a little direction. Those are your options, young man. I only give you the option because I’m fully aware of your circumstances, and you have an aunt who seems willing to walk through fire for you. I hope you will not slap away her, and my, generosity.”

  I paused and glanced at the desk. The idea was ludicrous. What sort of place was named Wyvern Willows? I’d never even heard of it, and what kind of people lived with a reform program tucked nicely into their school? It didn’t mesh with my sober sensibilities. My pause must have been too long because Atwood nudged my hip, the attorney’s eyes wide with insistence.

  Atwood shot up next to me when the judge prepared to order the sentence. I sucked in sharp breaths to bury the ball of frustration. With a hidden glance at Aunt Liz, all my wants needed to go to the backburner—just once I couldn’t be selfish and bitter. She dabbed at her blue eyes, still avoiding any glance in my direction. Liz deserved better, and I wasn’t fool enough not to understand I was breaking her heart piece by piece. For the first time that day, I felt truly disappointed in myself.

  Judge Swain sighed, speaking further. “The court orders that Mr. Teagan Ward will be handed to the custody of Wyvern Reform Program and will commence classes within the next five days, or you will be returned to the custody of the state. Understand, young man? I’ve just cut you a big break by keeping you out of the detention center. Don’t let me see you in here again.”

  With a crank of the gavel I growled in the back of my throat, but calmed when I was given back to the custody of Aunt Liz. I sauntered at her side when we walked toward the old, trusty minivan. She didn’t say anything, not until we were well out of sight of the courtroom.

  “You’re ruining your life,” she whispered. “You could be so much more, T.”

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered through my teeth. “I’ll pay you back for all…this.”

  “I don’t
want money, Teagan. I want you to see your potential like I always have. When your parents passed, I promised I would raise you the best I could. I wish I was the perfect stand in—I tried to be mom and dad, I know it hasn’t always been easy.”

  “Aunt Liz,” I said quickly. “This isn’t your fault. I’m the one who makes my own choices.”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “You do. You have a strength inside T, I only wish you could see it. I expect you to follow the rules at Wyvern. The documents state you can come home during Christmas break, but otherwise you’re to stay on the grounds. Don’t go looking for trouble. You’ll follow the rules, won’t you?”

  I nodded, but didn’t respond more than that. I wanted to follow the rules, but already I was plotting my misery at the reform house.

  “Because, honestly T, if you don’t—I really won’t be there to bail you out again. My heart just can’t keep doing this. Next time, you might be eighteen and you’ll have to deal with the adult consequences.”

  “I know,” I snipped, folding my arms over my chest. “I’ll listen, Aunt Liz. I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  She chuckled and patted the top of my hand. “Oh, sweetie, I wish it were so simple to just turn off. I love you, T. I really do. Just love yourself enough to do this right. Who knows, maybe Wyvern High School will be a turning point for you. It could open an entire realm of possibilities we never imagined.”

  I scoffed and leaned against the window of the van. Something told me Wyvern Willows was going to be the end of life as I knew it. The thought of it settled like a sick bulge in the center of my stomach.

  Chapter 2

  The air was spicy. In a good way. Breathing it in relaxed the anxiety building in my chest when Aunt Liz rolled into my new prison cell. The town of Wyvern Willows was small, something like Mayberry, in a way. There were old diners, a single grocery store, a tiny hardware shop. Along the immaculate walks there were old iron streetlamps that had a sort-of charm, of course I’d never admit I found any aspect of the town charming. I’d even seen an old-school ice cream parlor where families and kids lined the swiveling seats licking their favorite flavors like a vintage magazine photo. Places like this didn’t exist, and I was determined not to trust anyone who would willingly live in such a town.