Love & Wrath
A.C. Ryals
First Dragons Series: Book 1
Copyright © 2021 A.C. Ryals
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
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Cover design by: Phillip Ryals
Photo of cover model: Halay Alex/Shutterstock.com
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
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
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Prologue
Akkad, during the reign of Naram-Sin
Maybe this wasn’t the mountain he should die on, but he’d been pushed around enough. The boy got back to his feet, not bothering to brush the dirt off his face when he’d likely be back on the ground before he could finish.
“You will not call me by my name,” the dragon said. He was in human form, but his dragon was just under the surface.
Gripping his battle axe with clammy hands in the Mesopotamian sun, the boy looked up at the dragon. “Father” is what he wanted to be called. Ezzu already had a father, a brickmaker. The dragon in front of him was a kidnapper. A brutal thug. Yes, Ezzu had to stay with him, but he would never refer to him as his father even though the dragon was his sire.
“You are Kur, you are not Father,” Ezzu said.
Kur lashed out but pulled his punch. Ezzu still felt a searing pain in his jaw, and he fell to the ground again.
“You will stop your insolence,” Kur said.
Ezzu got back to his feet and held the axe as firmly in his grip as he could. It was large and he was still small, but he lifted it and smashed it into Kur’s arm. No effect. The deceptively young-looking dragon didn’t even wince.
“Your mother was a whore,” Kur said. “The man she married was nothing. She left you here because she knew she couldn’t handle your power. You got that power from me, little bastard. I am your father, and I am the only one who can show you how to be a true dragon.”
“Then show me, but you’re not my father. You’re an oozing wart, Kur,” Ezzu snarled.
“I stripped your wings already. What next? Shall I rip off an arm? Be an obedient child and you will have comfort. Keep up this rebellion, and you will only have pain.”
“Give me pain,” Ezzu said.
For a fraction of a second, Ezzu saw something in Kur’s eyes that wasn’t anger. Was it frustration? Was it sorrow? He couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter because it wasn’t defeat. Kur would keep hurting Ezzu and Ezzu would keep willfully taking it.
“You are still weak from having your wings taken from you. You would challenge me, even now?” Kur asked.
“Yes, I challenge you.”
It had been one week since Ezzu was abandoned by his mother at the home of the beast called Kur. He looked like a normal man, but inside he was like Ezzu. Only Kur was more powerful and much older.
When Ezzu was left at Kur’s home in Akkad, he thought he was at the home of a healer. He thought he would be cured of his magic and he would be able to go home with his mother. She feared his power, even at his young age. It bothered Ezzu that his mother would protectively grip her swollen belly when he approached. Ezzu would never hurt his unborn sibling or his mother. Yes, he’d burned their reed house down, but it was an accident.
He wanted the fear to leave his mother’s eyes. He wanted to be a good big brother. When he was told she wasn’t coming back for him, the boy Ubar became Ezzu. Named Ubar by his mother, the fire and fury that he showed made this dragon, Kur, change his name. Ubar accepted the change because ezzu, fury, was what he felt.
But his fury had another consequence. Ezzu threw a tantrum when he found out his mother wasn’t returning. He was willing to admit that it was childish and uncalled for. The punishment was overly harsh, however. While Ezzu spewed fire in his dragon form, Kur came up behind him and ripped off his wings. It was as painful as having any limbs torn from a body, but they’d grow back.
They hadn’t yet. Even in his human form he still felt the pain of regrowth.
Though Ezzu was injured and in constant pain, Kur took him out behind their brick house to train him to fight. He wanted strong sons in human and dragon form.
Ezzu just wanted to go home and be a good son to his mother and a good big brother. His father, or the man he thought was his father, had never been overly kind. He was still a good man and showed Ezzu how to make bricks and dry them in the sun. Sometimes Ezzu sped the process along with his fire. Kur, Ezzu’s biological father, was an overpowered monster.
In response to Ezzu’s challenge, the more powerful dragon shook his head.
“Then so be it,” Kur said.
Ezzu tried not to flinch. He wanted to remain stoic, but he was just a boy. He squeezed his eyes closed and he felt tears coming. Then it hit, the most painful thing he’d ever felt. It was even worse than having his wings ripped off. It was fire and it baked his front. He doubled over and it seared his back as well.
Ezzu fell to the ground, pain ripping through him from his scalp down to his abdomen on his front and down his neck to his lower back. All he knew at that moment was pain so terrible
