Born of Fire: The Dawn of Legend

  Written by DREAGEN

  Preliminary edit by Russell Tavares

  Final edit by Joanne Asala

  For Joanne Asala’s services visit www.compassrose.com

  Cover art by Andrew Spaulding

  For more of Andrew Spaulding’s art visit www.spaldingarts.com

  Logo by Ashley Merrill

  ISBN:9780692694428

  ISBN:9780692687390

  The following story is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events are completely coincidental.

  www.dreagen.com

  Born of Fire: The Dawn of Legend © Anthony M. Scott. All Rights Reserved, except where otherwise noted.

  Dedication

  To my mother and my beautiful wife, for sticking by me through the best and worse of times.

  Contents

  Dedication

  1. PROLOGUE

  2. SOMETHING WORSE

  3. LET YOUR PAIN BE NO MORE

  4. SWEET DREAMS

  5. THAT WHICH DWELLS WITHIN

  6. LOST IN THE DARK

  7. STOKING THE FIRES

  8. A HAUNTINGLY COLD CHILL

  9. AN ENEMY IN OUR MIDST

  10. SCARS OF DAYS PAST

  11. ALIEN

  12. ANASAYA

  13. SECRETS AND SHADOWS

  14. LEGENDS COME TO LIFE

  15. GREAT AND SMALL

  16. UNDER SIEGE

  17. THE FACE OF THE ENEMY

  18. THE JOURNEY HAS BEGUN

  19. WHERE THE SUN FALLS

  20. UNKNOWN DESTINY

  21. FAITH

  22. THRESHOLD OF OBLIVION

  23. NEVER AGAIN

  24. THE DEADLIEST THAT EVER LIVED

  25. FORGED IN FLAME

  26. EPILOGUE

  APPENDIX

  1

  PROLOGUE

  A hunter’s moon, tainted red by the unnatural crimson hue of the night sky, hung ominously over a silent world below. Despite the stillness of all, the air carried with it a breath of anticipation.

  A figure wearing a dark cloak ran through the deserted streets, holding a small bundle wrapped in a pale blanket. Moving in absolute silence, the figure glided through the shadows before finally stopping in an alley. Reaching to pull back the hood, the figure revealed herself to be a beautiful woman with fair skin, long flowing auburn hair, pointed ears, and beautiful green eyes that seemed to glow like two emerald candles in the gloom. Peering down at the tiny bundle in her arms, she gently pulled some of the fabric aside to reveal the face of a baby with bright red eyes, two tiny burning pools of light. Pulling the blanket down more, she ran her finger down a small incision on his chest. She smiled down lovingly before once again covering his face with the blanket and continuing through the darkened streets.

  Suddenly a ring of red light flashed in the sky above, illuminating the world below in a red glow. Stopping dead in her tracks, she breathed heavily, her eyes closed and the baby close to her chest. “No!” she gasped as her eyes shot open, and she took off at a full run. She knew she and the child were no longer alone, that she had been followed. Both their lives hung in the balance, but only his mattered. She could not let them get him; she would never let them get him. She would put herself between him and the world if it meant keeping him safe.

  She continued down the street until she came to a large stone building. She looked up at the tall pillars that lined the enormous entrance with their stone-etched words in a language alien to her. She did not have long to hesitate, for a piercing cry rang out over a low guttural roar, echoing through the night sky and forcing her to look back in terror. She pulled the child close and ran up the steps two at a time until she reached two large doors at the top, only to find them locked. Frustrated and panicked, she gritted her teeth, revealing an elongated set of upper and lower incisors, and ripped the door completely free of its hinges.

  Without hesitation or sparing a second look at what approached from behind, she ran inside. She rounded several corners before stopping in a large room, lit from above only by moonlight and several small lights in the far corners. She walked through, slowly and quietly, looking around in shock and confusion. Dark silhouettes with huge teeth and claws surrounded her. She knew what they were but not why they were here like this. Regardless, she did not have time to worry about such questions. Only one thing mattered now. She moved to the far end of the room and placed the child down gently. There was another loud cry, this time near the entrance of the building. Slowly she unwrapped the child and placed him beneath the silhouette of a large skeletal beast, which she gazed up at before looking back down at the small squirming form.

  “I love you,” she said as she kissed him on the forehead, then she stood and faced the way she had come. With the glow in her eyes brightening, she parted her long cloak, revealing a strong, muscular figure. She gave one final look at the baby before retracing her steps.

  As she ran back outside, she saw the outline of three enormous beasts standing at the base of the steps, their armor-clad hides revealed only slightly in pale flashes of heat lightning. Her heart raced as the blood in her veins burned like fire. She knew who they were, just as she had known this might be a one-way trip, but she was prepared for such a fate. Her sacrifice would mean the boy would have a chance. As the three dark figures walked forward with thunderous footsteps, she unleashed an unearthly cry. Her eyes burned with beautiful emerald fire, as did her entire body. The shadowy behemoths stopped dead in their tracks, letting out deep, savage growls before moving forward once more. Up the steps they came to surround her. Pulling from her cloak a glowing red stone, the woman held it high above her head and crushed it in the palm of her hand. There was a flash of light and a deafening roar as all the glass in the front entrance of the building exploded outward.

  Philippe Dho was the security guard on duty that night at the Natural History Museum, and he had just been pouring himself a cup of coffee when he heard the loud blast that rocked the museum down to its foundations. “What the hell?” he exclaimed as he dropped his cup and spilled coffee all over the floor.

  He ran out of the break room towards the front entrance, where he found a sight to behold. The entire front entrance was gone, and burning debris and rubble were scattered about as if a bomb had gone off. The air was filled with a burnt, acrid smell, forcing him to cover his mouth with his sleeve. Cautiously, he walked through the rubble and looked out into the street. There was a sixty-meter diameter spot where nothing but scorched Earth remained.

  “What the hell happened out here?” he asked in a hushed tone. Preparing to place his foot down on the first step, his attention was pulled back inside by a sound coming from deep within the museum. He jumped in surprise as he turned and strained to hear the sound again, but he heard nothing. He quickly walked back inside and flipped the switches to turn the main lights back on, but found that they would not work. “Damn it,” he said as he reached down to grab his flashlight. The blast…or whatever it was, he thought to himself, must have knocked out the power.

  The interior of the museum felt like a dark and haunting tomb filled with dead relics. With the exception of a few emergency lights, it was completely black, a den of shadows. Philippe turned on his light and shone it forward. Slowly he walked back inside, scanning the light over the floors, walls, and ceiling. “Wha—!” he blurted out in surprise as he heard the sound again. He shone his light in every direction but could not find the source of the sound. Then it came again, and Philippe spun around once more. What should I do? The blast would have certainly triggered the silent alarm, meaning the police
would be here soon. Maybe he should let them handle this. After all, he was just a security guard. A really underpaid one.

  After several more minutes of indecision, he mustered up the courage and headed in the direction of the strange sound. He kept his flashlight pointing forward for the most part but would occasionally point it off to the sides to make sure he was alone. He wiped drops of sweat from his brow as the knot in his stomach grew tighter. It was times like this he wished he had been issued a gun. He turned a corner and stood before what looked to be a large black abyss, but in reality was just the entrance to the museum’s largest exhibition hall. With only the moon and the eerie red light shining in from the skylights, it was entombed in darkness. Then, he heard the sound again. This time it was close…and clear. It was the unmistakable cry of a baby. He rushed into the darkness, shining his light straight ahead. The baby was crying continuously now, leading him right to it. Philippe came to a large platform that was lit just enough for him to tell it was there.

  He placed his flashlight on top of it and pulled himself up. Then, grabbing it again, he instantly began shining it all around the platform. The baby let out a cry louder than before, prompting him to turn his light toward him. “Oh, my God!” he said as he walked over to where the baby was laying. “Where did you come from?”

  The baby stopped crying at the sight of Philippe and looked up at him with his big scarlet eyes. Philippe knelt down beside him and shone his light over the baby to see if he was hurt, and something in the baby’s eyes caught his attention. He leaned in close with his light off to the side and saw what looked like slow-moving light…no…fire in his eyes. Leaning in closer, he watched it suddenly flicker and burn out until only two dull, maroon eyes stared back up at him. Looking the baby over carefully, he spotted an unusual scar on his chest about five centimeters long. He moved the light a little past the child now and on to what he was laying in. It was an impression in concrete meant to look like natural stone filled with artificial vegetation. Suddenly there was a loud burst of roaring thunder, and a massive bolt of lightning momentarily lit the entire hall, revealing the baby lying in a nest surrounded by the skeletons of a family of tyrannosaurus rex. The flash also illuminated all the other prehistoric beasts that filled the great hall—the hall of dinosaurs.

  Philippe looked back down, noticeably shaken, and picked the baby up.

  “Who are you?” he asked as he gazed into the eyes of a boy whose life had been saved by another sacrificing hers in a final act of love.

  2

  SOMETHING WORSE

  Fifteen Years Later

  Darkness filled the void in every direction as far as the eye could see; a red mist floated through the haunted space. From the shadows, a small form moved through the emptiness, silent as death. As it made its way awkwardly forward, it suddenly froze at the sound of a distant impact. It looked around frantically, trying to locate the source of the tremor, just as it came again, this time stronger and closer. The figure’s movements became more erratic as the thunderous sound drew nearer. Soon it was unmistakable; they were footsteps, but of what? The lone figure looked in every direction but saw no sign of anything else living other than himself. Then he heard it, a low rumbling growl that made the ground tremble beneath his feet. It had come from behind; slowly he turned, and from high above in the darkened gloom emerged two fiery crimson eyes…

  Two red eyes shot open in bed and were instantly greeted by the early morning light that streamed in from between the curtains. The room was silent and still. The dim light hinted at the shapes of dinosaur models in all corners of the room. Framed pictures of the great beasts adorned the walls and even the ceiling. In the far left corner of the room was a small bed. In it lay a teenage boy, his red eyes forced open and unblinking. Slowly he sat up, rubbing them as the remnant of the nightmare slipped away. He stretched his stiff joints and yawned, revealing large, sharp teeth. He rubbed his eyes again, and heard a voice call his name from outside the door.

  “Rex, you up yet?”

  Quickly dropping back down, he threw the covers over himself, trying his hardest not to move a muscle while pretending to breathe heavily to sound like he was still asleep. His bedroom door opened, and in stepped Philippe, who after looking over at the huddled mass under the covers was not about to be fooled even for a moment.

  “Come on, boy, time to get ready for school,” he said. “Now.” Rex remained motionless under the covers. “Rex, I know you’re awake,” Philippe said, placing his hands on his hips disapprovingly. “Time to get ready.”

  Realizing that his father had seen through Plan A, Rex quickly shifted over to Plan B. He was confident; he knew he could fool him with it. He had practiced for so very long and hard, gotten the whole thing down to a perfect piece of performance art. “Uhh…D…Dad,” he replied in a weak and frail tone, “I…I think I’m…sick. Don’t think…I can…get out of bed.”

  “Oh, no!” replied Philippe with fake concern, knowing full well he was being played for a fool. “My poor boy! Don’t you worry about a thing, son; you just stay here in bed today and rest! I’ll take care of everything!” Rex grinned mischievously under the blanket. Philippe, however, was no fool. He had learned all of Rex’s tricks over the years, and as usual was ready to beat him at his own game. It was his move. “You stay here,” he said with forced concern in his voice. “I just need to call work and let them know that I won’t be coming in today.” That should get him; he must think I’m stupid if he thinks I’m just going to leave him here by himself so he can read and watch movies all day.

  Rex, not one to be defeated so easily, countered. “No…Dad, please,” he said, straining his voice further to sound weaker. “Don’t miss work…because of me. I’d feel…terrible if…you couldn’t…make rent this month…because of me.” Take that, old man!

  Wow, he’s really going for the win on this one, Philippe thought as he furrowed his brow.

  Rex had to force himself not to laugh. Victory was surely his. His father would no doubt feel bad and let him stay home sick, proud that his son was willing to stay home alone so he could go out and continue to make enough money to support them. But his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his father’s voice.

  “Esley!” he heard his father say. “What are you doing to Rex’s bike chain?” Rex’s eyes went wide. “Rex! Esley is stealing your bike!”

  Moving on pure instinct like an ambush predator pouncing from its blind onto its unsuspecting prey, Rex tore off the blanket and leaped out of bed. Large, powerful muscles flexed as he propelled his body forward with furious intensity born of an instinctive drive to protect what was his, and he cleared the distance between the bed and the window in two quick strides. He opened the blinds and peered outside, where he saw absolutely no one. He glanced to his right and saw his bicycle safe and secure with the lock still fastened to the chain. He felt his heart sink as he heard the familiar sound of his father’s laugh.

  “Nice try as always,” Philippe said as he tried to regain his composure, but he found it difficult to stop laughing. “But you forget you already tried the sick thing last month. Still, the whole ‘go on without me’ bit was a nice touch. Anyway, wash up and come eat breakfast.” Philippe slapped him on the back and walked out of the room, humming to himself.

  Rex sighed, looked outside at the rising sun, and said, “Another glorious morning.”

  Fifteen minutes later, he walked into the kitchen and sat down at the counter, where his father had just finished cooking breakfast. For the most part, Philippe had maintained his strong outward physical appearance. Just four years ago, he had bid farewell to a full head of hair, and he now kept it completely shaved. His stern face was deceptive in that it always hid his warm and friendly demeanor. He and his late wife had always wanted children, but, sadly, she was unable to have any, something that had always left a lingering hole within him. They had met when she was in the navy and her ship had pulled into port in Nice, France, where she stole the heart of
the tall and lanky twenty-two-year-old Frenchman. They got married one year later, and he came to America with her when she was transferred to California. When she died of cancer seventeen years ago, he thought he would spend the rest of his days alone. Then came that bizarre and terrifying night at the museum. He remembered it like it was just yesterday. There he was, working night security at the museum, when his world was turned upside down and rocked from its foundation. Before he even knew what had happened, there he was, standing in the great hall of dinosaurs, holding a baby in his arms. Philippe knew he should have given him up, but holding him in his arms that night gave him a taste of the life he and his late wife had always wanted. He knew she would have wanted him to keep the boy and raise him as his own, and so when no official record or next of kin could be found, Philippe was awarded full custody.

  The next logical step was to give the child a name. Philippe decided to call him Rex because he found him in the nest of the museum’s tyrannosaurus rex display. A strange choice, perhaps, but then again, everything surrounding their meeting was unusual. Besides, the boy’s name was the last thing people found strange when they saw him. He had a large, muscular stature for a boy his age, standing nearly two meters and weighing around 113 kilos, but the things that caught everyone off guard were his teeth, claws, ears, hair, and eyes, which were sharp, black, pointed, silver, and red, respectively. Philippe had taken him to every doctor in town, but none of them could find anything actually wrong with him. They were, however, quick to point out several other peculiar traits. His bones seemed to be stronger and denser than those of a normal person, while his hair was more like thick animal fur. As for its color, no one could determine how anyone could have been born with such follicle pigmentation. But that was the case with all his other unusual features.