Chapter 1 - The Dragon That Knelt Before a Nobody

The black dragon lowered its enormous head toward Toby, and three hundred armed men prepared to watch a ten-year-old boy die.

Instead, the creature knelt.

The sound of its armored forelegs striking the cathedral floor was like two mountains colliding. Cracks raced through the polished obsidian tiles. Broken stained glass rained from the ceiling, scattering ruby and sapphire fragments around the boy's boots.

Toby stood frozen, the Sunforged Blade trembling in his hands.

He had expected death.

Only moments earlier, Commander Vane had threatened to cut off both his hands unless he pulled the legendary sword from the Primordial Anvil. Toby had been certain the trial would end with his blood staining the cathedral floor.

Now the sword was free.

And a monster from the oldest nightmares of the kingdom was bowing before him.

"Impossible," whispered Bishop Aldren.

The elderly bishop stood near the royal altar, clutching the silver sun hanging from his neck. His face had lost all color.

"The last dragon died seven hundred years ago."

The creature's amber eyes narrowed.

Then a voice entered Toby's mind.

They told you I was dead?

Toby gasped.

The words had not passed through the dragon's jaws. They had appeared inside his skull, deep and ancient, like a memory he had somehow forgotten.

Seven centuries of imprisonment, the voice continued. And the first thing these little kings teach their children is another lie.

Toby stumbled backward.

"You're speaking."

The dragon tilted its massive head.

And you are listening. That is considerably more surprising.

Commander Vane recovered first.

"Archers!" he shouted. "Protect the kingdom! Kill the beast!"

A dozen royal guards raised their crossbows.

Toby turned toward them.

"Wait!"

The first bolt flew.

It struck the dragon between its eyes.

The iron tip shattered.

The dragon did not even blink.

Its enormous wings unfolded, blotting out the sunlight. A deep rumble rose from its chest, and the air filled with the bitter scent of burning metal.

Shall I destroy them, little master?

Toby stared at the frightened soldiers.

He knew some of them.

Sir Garrick had once given him a crust of bread when the kitchens refused to feed him. Another guard, young Peter, had helped him carry coal through the winter.

They were not all cruel.

"No!" Toby cried. "Please don't hurt anyone!"

The dragon went still.

For one extraordinary moment, the entire cathedral seemed to hold its breath.

Then the creature folded its wings.

As you command.

A murmur spread through the survivors.

"The boy controls it."

"He's a sorcerer."

"No child can command a dragon."

"Look at the sword!"

The Sunforged Blade was changing.

Its golden runes, which had burned brilliantly when Toby pulled it from the anvil, now glowed with a darker amber light. Strange symbols moved across the metal like living creatures.

Toby felt something tighten around his wrist.

He looked down.

A black mark had appeared beneath his skin.

It resembled a dragon curled around a crown.

The same symbol was engraved on the dragon's forehead.

Bishop Aldren saw it.

His expression changed from terror to something far more dangerous.

Recognition.

"Commander," he said quietly, "take the child alive."

Vane looked at him.

"What?"

"Alive," the bishop repeated. "Whatever happens to the beast, the boy must not die."

Toby heard every word.

He had spent five years in the royal armory, where adults spoke freely around him because they considered him too insignificant to matter.

He recognized the tone.

They were planning something.

"Why?" Toby demanded.

Bishop Aldren smiled.

It was the same gentle smile he wore when blessing children during the Festival of the Sun.

"My son, you have performed a miracle. The kingdom must understand what has happened."

"I'm not your son."

The bishop's smile faltered.

Toby swallowed.

He had never known his parents. The only thing he possessed from his life before the armory was a small copper pendant, its surface worn smooth except for a peculiar crescent-shaped scratch.

He had been told his mother abandoned him at the monastery gates.

He had believed that story because he had nothing else.

Now the bishop was looking at him as though he had seen a ghost.

The dragon moved its head closer.

Do not trust the priest.

Toby tightened his grip on the sword.

"Who are you?" he whispered.

My name is Vaelthar. I was the last guardian of the First Crown.

"The First Crown?"

The dragon's amber eyes darkened.

The crown your ancestors were murdered for.

Toby's heart began pounding.

"My ancestors?"

Before Vaelthar could answer, a scream came from the northern gallery.

A young servant girl was trapped beneath a fallen wooden beam.

Toby recognized her immediately.

"Mira!"

She was eleven, with tangled dark hair and a narrow face usually brightened by a mischievous smile. She worked in the kitchens and had been Toby's only real friend since he arrived at Sunspire.

Blood ran down her forehead.

"Toby!" she cried. "I can't move!"

The cathedral's damaged ceiling groaned.

A second stone arch was beginning to collapse.

Toby ran toward her.

"Boy!" Commander Vane roared. "Stop!"

Toby ignored him.

He dropped to his knees beside Mira and tried lifting the beam.

It would not move.

"Leave me," she whispered.

"No."

"Toby, the roof—"

"I said no!"

He pushed harder.

Pain shot through his shoulders.

The beam shifted barely an inch.

Then a massive black claw descended beside him.

Mira screamed.

Vaelthar lifted the beam as though it weighed nothing.

Toby pulled her free just as the arch above them collapsed.

The dragon spread one wing over the children.

Stone blocks smashed against its scales, breaking into harmless fragments.

For several seconds, everything disappeared beneath dust.

When the air cleared, Mira was clinging to Toby's arm.

"That thing saved us," she whispered.

Vaelthar snorted.

I saved you because the boy asked me to spare lives. Do not mistake obedience for affection.

Toby almost smiled.

Then he noticed something.

Mira was staring at his wrist.

At the black dragon-shaped mark.

Her expression had become strangely distant.

"Mira?"

She blinked.

"Where did you get that?"

"It appeared when I pulled the sword."

She looked toward Bishop Aldren.

Fear crossed her face.

Not surprise.

Fear.

As though she already knew what the symbol meant.

Before Toby could question her, Commander Vane approached with twenty armored knights.

Their swords were drawn.

"Step away from the creature," Vane ordered.

Toby rose slowly.

"He's not attacking anyone."

"That beast destroyed the royal cathedral!"

"You shot him!"

Vane's face reddened.

"You insolent little—"

"Enough."

Bishop Aldren descended the altar steps.

He moved carefully through the rubble, his white ceremonial robes dragging across broken glass.

"Toby," he said, "you have done something extraordinary. But the sword you carry belongs to the Crown."

Toby glanced at the blade.

"Then why couldn't the king pull it out?"

Silence.

The question seemed to strike the bishop harder than any weapon.

Vane stepped forward.

"Give me the sword."

Toby hesitated.

He had never held anything valuable before.

Everything in his life had belonged to someone else: his bed, his clothes, the bread he ate, even the hours he slept.

But this sword had answered him.

And somehow, that made it different.

"No," he said.

Vane's expression hardened.

"Do you understand what happens to servants who defy royal authority?"

Toby remembered the executioner's block.

He remembered the commander's threat.

And he remembered how everyone had laughed when he approached the anvil.

His hands began shaking again.

Vaelthar's voice returned.

You fear him.

"Yes," Toby whispered.

Good. Fear keeps foolish kings alive longer than courage does.

Vane lunged.

His sword flashed toward Toby's wrist.

The boy barely saw the movement.

But the Sunforged Blade moved.

Not because Toby knew how to fight.

He had never received a single sword lesson.

His arms reacted as though guided by another pair of hands.

Golden steel met silver.

A thunderous crack filled the cathedral.

Vane's sword broke in half.

The commander staggered backward, staring at the shattered weapon.

Then everyone saw the blood.

A thin red line had appeared across Vane's cheek.

Toby had cut him.

The most feared swordsman in Sunspire had been wounded by a ten-year-old armory servant.

Vane touched his face.

His eyes filled with murderous hatred.

"Seize him!"

The knights advanced.

Vaelthar rose to his full height.

One more step, the dragon warned, its voice suddenly echoing aloud through the cathedral, and I will bury your kingdom beneath its own ashes.

The soldiers froze.

Even Vane retreated.

Bishop Aldren, however, did something unexpected.

He laughed.

A soft, trembling laugh.

"Seven hundred years," he murmured. "The prophecy was true."

Toby turned toward him.

"What prophecy?"

The bishop studied him for a long moment.

Then he reached inside his robes and produced a small silver key.

Its handle was shaped like a dragon's skull.

"Your mother left something behind, Toby."

The boy felt the world narrow around him.

"My mother?"

"Something I hoped would never have to be opened."

"Where is she?"

Alden did not answer.

Instead, he looked toward the ruined altar.

"Under the cathedral is a chamber sealed before the First Dynasty fell. Only someone bearing the Dragon's Mark can enter it."

Toby stared at the black symbol on his wrist.

"You knew about me?"

The bishop's silence answered more than his words could have.

Mira tightened her grip on Toby's sleeve.

"Don't go with him," she whispered.

The bishop heard her.

His eyes flickered toward the girl.

For an instant, his gentle expression vanished.

"Mira," he said, "return to the kitchens."

She stepped behind Toby.

"No."

Something passed between them.

A silent understanding Toby could not interpret.

Then Vaelthar lowered his head beside the boy.

The priest knows more than he admits. But the chamber is real.

"What's inside it?" Toby asked.

The dragon did not answer immediately.

For the first time, uncertainty entered its ancient voice.

Something I was commanded never to reveal.

Toby looked from the dragon to the bishop.

His entire life had been built on unanswered questions.

Who were his parents?

Why had they abandoned him?

Why had the sword chosen him?

And why did everyone suddenly seem afraid of what he might discover?

He stepped toward the altar.

"I want to see it."

Bishop Aldren closed his eyes.

"Then may the Sun forgive us."

He inserted the silver key into a narrow opening beneath the altar's central stone.

A hidden mechanism clicked.

The floor began to move.

Massive slabs of obsidian slid apart, revealing a staircase descending into darkness.

Cold air rose from below.

It carried the scent of ancient dust, burned incense, and something else.

Roses.

Toby recognized the fragrance.

He did not know why.

A strange memory stirred at the edge of his mind: warm arms holding him, a woman's voice singing softly, and the same scent of roses against his cheek.

His throat tightened.

"Mother?"

Far below the cathedral, something answered.

Three slow knocks.

Bishop Aldren went rigid.

Vaelthar's scales bristled.

No, the dragon whispered.

For the first time since its arrival, the enormous creature sounded genuinely frightened.

That chamber was supposed to be empty.

Then a woman's voice rose from the darkness.

"Toby?"

The boy stopped breathing.

The voice trembled with disbelief.

"My little boy... is that really you?"

And from somewhere deep beneath the cathedral, a second voice screamed:

"DON'T LISTEN TO HER! THAT IS NOT YOUR MOTHER!"