The Forbidden Ground + Bonus Scenes from the Series Read online

A flashlight beam shone through the trees, coming from the direction of the path.

  “Your sidekick approaches,” Zav said. “With a rope.”

  “I was wondering if he got lost. He’s a city boy.”

  “Perhaps you can replace him with an assistant more adept at woodland navigation.”

  “I have Sindari for that.” Remembering the trouble I’d had summoning him, I grabbed my charm. It was no longer cold to the touch, but I called on him to make sure I could.

  The familiar silver mist formed, heralding his return to Earth, and I sagged in relief.

  I am ready to go into battle and fight valiantly, Sindari announced, looking toward the dwindling flames from Zav’s bonfire.

  “Too late.”

  “Val.” Dimitri’s light found me, and he looked toward the smoldering trees covering the hole. “You got out.”

  He flicked the flashlight to my side—maybe he hadn’t seen Zav in his black robe—and the light shone in Zav’s eyes. Zav narrowed them, and a snap and a flash of orange came from the flashlight. Dimitri cursed and dropped the burned-out case.

  “Feeling cranky?” I asked Zav.

  “I will return to your city and wait for you to come assist me on my next mission,” he said, ignoring the question.

  He stepped away from me, giving me a long look over his shoulder that I couldn’t quite read. He sprang into the air, shifting into his dragon form and flying away.

  “I’m definitely glad I didn’t nudge his tail,” Dimitri said.

  “I wish he’d stuck around to incinerate the corpses of the creatures,” I said, remembering Willard’s orders.

  Consider it done, Zav spoke into my mind, though he’d already disappeared over the trees. Do not forget to order my ribs in advance so there will be a sufficient quantity to sate my hunger.

  You’re a demanding ally.

  But he wasn’t, I admitted, nearly as demanding as he could be with that power.

  A superior ally.

  * * *

  THE END

  Bonus Scenes

  1

  Author Note

  Since the Death Before Dragons series is written in first person from Val’s point of view, we never get to see what the other characters are truly thinking. In particular, it can be hard to guess the thoughts of a certain dragon from another world. Dragons just aren’t that good at sharing, especially early on.

  I thought readers might be curious to see some of the scenes in the first three books rewritten from Zav’s point of view. I picked three from each novel and also added a couple of new scenes (specifically, Zav going to get his photo taken for Val’s axe-throwing poster and Zav’s first time shoe shopping… for those cowboy boots in Book 3).

  I hope you enjoy these peeks into Zav’s thoughts. I’ll set up each one to remind you where in the books they take place.

  2

  Book 1: Greemaw’s Valley

  I thought about starting at the very beginning for these Zav scenes, but he was quite the grumpy and pissed-off dragon when we first met him. For understandable reasons. A strange half-elf assassin had just killed the criminal he’d been sent to collect for punishment and rehabilitation. Val is very lucky he didn’t toss her off the cliff.

  He’d cooled down a bit by the next time they met. This is the scene in Greemaw’s valley after Val and her mom encountered the werewolves and Zav lit a couple of them on fire. It doesn’t pay to cross a dragon.

  Lord Zavryd’nokquetal Stormforge was having a bad day. A bad month, actually. No, a bad year.

  One of his uncles had grown sick and stepped down from a position on the Dragon Ruling Council, leaving an opening for a member of the odious and ambitious Silverclaw Clan. Instead of letting Zavryd stand at her side to make a powerful statement to their rivals, his mother the queen had sent him to this benighted prison yard of a planet to collect criminals who had fled the justice system.

  As if he were some mere law enforcer whose abilities couldn’t serve her better in a more crucial role.

  To make matters worse, he now had to deal with that verminous female again. Val-something. A half-elf mongrel who’d murdered a criminal he’d been assigned to bring in and who’d compared dragons to insects.

  He couldn’t imagine why she’d shown up here; all he knew was that the very werewolf criminal he’d been assigned to collect had been out in the open in the middle of the day because he’d wanted to kill her. A popular sentiment on this world, it seemed. He could see why.

  Now, having warned the golem Greemaw that this Val was in the area, Zavryd stood in his human form in an alcove he’d created behind her seat of governing. He hadn’t intended to linger, but he wanted to make sure she didn’t threaten the placid golem. He was also starting to formulate a plan in regard to this mongrel female. Maybe he could put her to use. Given that Val had murdered that wyvern right in front of him—which had resulted in an arduous lecture from the queen when he’d failed to bring in the very first criminal on his list—she should be willing to make amends.

  “Your daughter is the Ruin Bringer?” Greemaw asked when Val and an older female who appeared to be related stopped in front of her.

  “Apparently,” the older female said.

  “She is not welcome among our kind.”

  With that sharp tongue, Val wasn’t likely welcome anywhere. Strange that she should be so arrogant and bristly with superior beings. Perhaps on this world, she believed herself special because of her half-elven blood.

  When Zavryd stood in the human form he had chosen to blend in on this world, he could see that she was attractive, with striking green eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and a braid of long blonde hair that fell over her shoulder and followed the curve of her breast, but he knew better than to allow himself to feel any sexual urges like this. When he’d been a younger and less wise dragon, he’d experimented with tysliir in shape-shifted forms, and he’d experienced carnal pleasures that were more difficult to find as a dragon, but she was an enemy and obnoxious. He had no interest in her other than in how she could further his plans.

  “I’m not here to bother anyone,” Val said. “And I’ll pay for the information. In money or tennis balls and pool noodles. Whatever excites people here.”

  Zavryd had no idea what she was talking about and did not care. He did decide it was unlikely she had come to threaten Greemaw. She only wished information.

  The older female spoke again, but Zavryd ignored it, gripping his chin and contemplating Val and whether she would be suitable for the idea percolating in his mind. Since it was clear the magical beings who’d fled to this world loathed her, could he cart her along as he searched for criminals and use her for bait to lure them to him? This world was so ridiculously overpopulated that he’d struggled so far to locate the beings on his list.

  “Did you slay the werewolf protectors?” Greemaw asked. “Or did the dragon?”

  Zavryd brought his attention back to the conversation. Would Val lie? He suspected so. She did not know he was hiding here, so why wouldn’t she blame him? Vermin had no honor.

  “They attacked me,” Val said, “and I defended myself. I asked if they would let us turn back without a fight, but they said no. So, yes, I killed several of them. Five, I believe, between myself and Sindari. I’m not sure how many the dragon killed, if any. He captured one and lit a couple others on fire. They may have survived.”

  Of course they had survived. Even though they had been so eager to kill Val that they had not backed off and shown appropriate respect to a dragon, Zavryd was not a heathen. He did not murder magical beings unless it was necessary to defend himself or the laws of his kind.

  Though he’d almost missed it, due to his indignation, he realized that Val hadn’t lied. Interesting.

  Greemaw looked toward his alcove and telepathically asked if she could reveal his position.

  Yes. It was time to let the half-elf know he was thinking of using her for the sake of his duty.

  “Is that correct?” Greemaw asked aloud.

  Zavryd walked out of the illusory wall and faced Val to consider if he could work with her.

  “It’s correct,” he replied absently, caring little about this discussion now. “I let the werewolves who fled live, though they should have been punished. They were arrogant and did not properly defer to a dragon.”

  “Yeah, I had the same problem with them,” Val said.

  “It is no surprise that a werewolf would not defer to a human. Even a mongrel with the blood of an elf who lowered himself to rut with a human.” Zaryd paused, waiting to see if she would react inappropriately to his words. It was the older female who scowled, but she kept her tongue still. “You have earned the hatred of all the magical beings in this part of this world.” He walked toward Val, hands clasped behind his back, and prowled around her. Would she do? Or would she end up being a hindrance? He could already tell that working with her would be extremely trying. “I can understand why, of course, since you stomped into my way and killed the wyvern I was in the middle of arresting.”

  Val lifted her chin, her green eyes sparking with defiance. “The wyvern that killed humans and that I was charged by my authorities to kill. I was on the case first, as I said. You weren’t around when I executed the first two, and it’s not my fault you came late to the third one.”

  “If there were others, they were not my concern. And you were not there first.”

  “I was already there when you walked in, asshole.”

  “Oh?”

  Was it possible she had been hidden in the cave when he arrived? That would explain how she and the Del’Nothian tiger had seemed to come out of nowhere.

  Zavryd was aware of the magical weapons she carried, but he hadn’t paid attention to the charms she wore on a leather strap around her neck. Did one of them allow her to camouflage herself? If so, it was a powerful trinket to work against even a dragon.

  Yes. He lifted a hand and ran his fingers along them as he sorted through the trinkets’ magic.

  She hadn’t flinched as he stepped close to her—most lesser beings quailed at the approach of a dragon—nor did she jerk away when he touched the charms. She had to be nervous and wondering if he would use his power on her.

  With most lesser beings, he would sense their emotions even if he didn’t probe into their minds to read their thoughts, but he sensed nothing from her and could only gauge her feelings by her facial expressions. Irritating, because he was not very familiar with how the vermin of this wild planet expressed themselves. He had not traveled here for more than a century.

  He could not read Val, but he could read magic, and he identified the charm that had allowed her to hide from him.

  “Yes, I see. I should take this from you, so you can’t easily sneak up on the magical.” Zavryd curled his lip, even more irritated that she had lurked in that cave and he had not sensed her. She had dared intrude on the private conversation of a dragon. “Assassin.”

  Her companion Del’nothian tiger—how had she ever come across one of the rare figurines that summoned their kind?—crouched at her side, as if he would spring. But the tiger was not foolish enough to attack a dragon, and Zavryd did not worry overmuch about him.

  “But I am not a thief.” He lowered his hand. “I am not a criminal.”

  “I’m not a criminal either,” Val growled. “You can’t bring your laws to this world and expect people here to obey them.”

  “Of course I can. I am a dragon, sent by the Dragon Justice Court. That your puny people don’t recognize our rule over the galaxy is laughable. It is only because nobody wishes to deal with your verminous infestation of this world that you’ve been allowed to run amok, breeding like iyarku and suffocating out almost all other life here.” He watched her through narrowed eyes, wondering if she would continue to defend herself, to defy him instead of bowing to him. Why did a part of him hope for the former? “You would be wise to respect dragons when they do visit.”

  “So sorry I didn’t drag a throne and a red carpet into that cave as soon as you arrived.”

  Ah, yes. There was the defiance. “Someday, a dragon may decide to come and rule over this mess and straighten it out.”

  “You, perhaps? Just give me some notice. I’ll put the word out on social media, so anyone who wants to appropriately worship you can show up at the portal.”

  “Not me.” Zavryd couldn’t keep from curling his lip again at the thought of being stuck ruling this backward world. “I will spend no more time in this vile place than I must. I am no cowardly refugee.”

  Zavryd walked around Val again, curious if she would dare draw that magical sword against him. It appeared to be one of the powerful blades of old and made by one of the great dwarven craftsman. It was another item that some mongrel on a wild world should never have in her possession. In addition to being an assassin, she was clearly a thief. That she had no shame was galling. He would not feel bad about using her to catch criminals. She would not likely survive the experience, but so be it.

  “Because I think it could cut down on the length of time I’m forced to stay here,” he informed her, “I am considering using you as bait.”

  “What?”

  Zavryd smiled tightly. “They hate you, and they come out in droves when you’re nearby. I’ve never had a pack of werewolves stand up to me in my life, but they wanted very badly to kill you, to receive credit among all the magical here for their great victory.” He’d had no trouble reading the minds of the werewolves. Their kind rarely bothered learning to use magic beyond their innate ability to shift shapes. “Even when I was right before them, they thought that it would be worth it to sacrifice part of their pack to take you down.”

  “Nice of you to read their minds. That would be considered a violation of civil liberties here, but whatever. You’ve already said our laws don’t apply to dragons.”

  “What liberties do your laws give to the magical?” He highly doubted the vermin laws even accounted for magical beings. She did not answer. He suspected his guess was right, but he attempted to probe into her thoughts, to telepathically deduce what she was thinking. It didn’t work. Had someone taught her elven magic? And if so, who or when? He had heard elves and dwarves had left this world.

  “I cannot read your mind,” he admitted. “Which charm of yours protects you from that?”

  “If you don’t know, I’m not telling you. A girl doesn’t lift her skirt for just any man.”

  Confused by the words, he looked down. She was not wearing a garment he believed qualified as a skirt.

  Amusement flashed in her eyes, and he clenched his jaw. Was she mocking him?

  “Yes, bait,” he said coolly. “You could offend the magical with your tongue even if you hadn’t alienated the whole community by slaying hundreds of them.”

  “Those weren’t part of a community. They were rogues. And you’re not dragging me off to dangle me above a cliff or whatever you have in mind. I’d kick my own ass before going anywhere with you.”

  “I wasn’t going to give you a choice,” he stated.

  How impudent that she believed she could defy a dragon. She ought to be honored that he was even talking to her. The vermin of this world were ridiculously ignorant.

  “I’m not being your pawn.” Val glared straight into his eyes.

  Did she truly think she had a choice? He couldn’t decide if she was brave to defy him or simply foolish.

  “It is not wise to refuse a dragon,” Greemaw said.

  “People keep using that word,” Val said, “but I assure you it doesn’t apply to me.”

  Maybe she was aware of her ignorance and foolishness. Few were.

  “You are an honest mongrel,” Zavryd said, “I’ll grant you that.”

  “Thanks so much. You’re not using me.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She would soon find that she didn’t have a choice. Yes, he would use her as bait to catch criminals. Perhaps if he was careful, he could keep her alive for long enough to acquire all of the criminals on the long list the queen had given him, including the dark-elf thieves that had presumed to steal from dragons. Yes, Val would help him acquire them. Perhaps as a native of this world, she would even be useful in locating them in the first place.

  Before leaving, he left a magical mark on her, so he could easily find her again.

  This would work well. He was sure of it.

  3

  Book 1: Val’s Apartment

  This next scene jumps ahead to Val’s apartment after she’s returned from her trip with Dimitri to visit Zoltan. He’s a very angry and uptight dragon at this point in the story. Don’t worry. He mellows slightly as we continue on.

  Because Zavryd had marked Val magically, it was a simple matter to find her again, even though he had been busy since their last meeting, and she had driven her conveyance three hundred miles from Greemaw’s valley. He flew through the damp night air, raindrops tumbling from heavy gray clouds, and located the building she was staying in. Her domicile, presumably.

  A rectangular structure of reasonable size, it offered a flat roof just large enough for him to land on. In the damp drear, he barely noticed the wooden seats arranged across the surface. They were not nests or perches suitable for a dragon, but folding contraptions designed to hold vermin butts. He thought about landing elsewhere, but that would waste time, and the meager denizens of this world should have known better than to litter their rooftops with obstacles that would impede a dragon’s landing.

  Snaps sounded as he came down, breaking the wood. One scratched an itch he had on his lower abdomen. Not bad.

  Zavryd looked around with his senses as well as his eyes and deduced that the doorway on the rooftop did not lead directly to Val’s location. The building was a warren of corridors and rooms on multiple levels. He took the most logical approach to arranging a meeting with her.