Today I’m pleased to welcome fantasy author Drako Damone to the blog with a character interview from The Lost Dragon:
What was your 1st impression of your partner?
Andreas: First impression of Kazarian was that he was a skinny little runt but tough, pigheaded, hard headed, and the best type of person to have at my back in battle.
Tell us, in one sentence, about yourself.
Andreas: I’m the oldest living Black Dragon, son of Jarel, the Black Dragon god and embodiment of black fire, and frankly I’m the biggest, baddest thing walking that’s not a god anywhere.
What is your biggest conflict in your story?
Andreas: Define biggest.
Jarel: Stop being so technical. All your problems were huge. Just list them.
Andreas: Are you high jacking my interview?
Jarel: Only to make you speak up for once. Now answer the question.
Andreas: Fine. To start at the beginning, this little vampire bitch named Kalos decides to break my father’s laws, becoming a rogue and leading thousands of his kind down the road to destruction. In this modern era, he’s after a healer named Cassandra Odele, determined to use her to resurrect the Titan King, Cronus. He also hates my twin nephews, Brandon and Demun, because they killed his favorite spawn. Oh, and just to be the most annoying pain in my ass since Heracles, he kidnapped my mate from his place in heaven and tortured him for weeks. Oh, and if you’re wondering why, because he intended to force me, the strongest dragon in existence, break my father’s laws by handing him those in my protection in order to get my soul mate back. Showed that little bastard.
What is your favorite memory?
Andreas: I can’t pick just one.
Jarel: So name more than one.
Andreas: Go away, Father. Get your own interview.
Jarel: All interviews are my interview.
Andreas: I’m going to ignore you now and answer the question.
Jarel: Fine, see what happens next time you take a god bolt to the back.
Andreas: Anyway, first, there’s the day Kazarian and I had sex the first time.
Jarel: Isn’t the proper term, “made love”?
Andreas: These are my answers. Anyway, next would be the day I met the twins’ father, Julian the first time. Then the day the twins were born, and finally the day I married Kazarian in front of my father and Hera, along with all the other gods worth speaking about.
What ultimately drew you to your partner?
Andreas: There’s something incredibly arousing about having a guy cover your back in a fight, then come back to camp and try to take care of you. He’s an incredible fighter, and frankly, he can calm me like no one else can.
What do you do for fun?
Andreas: What’s fun?
Jarel: Probably that thing normal people do that haven’t been without their soul mate for 11,000 years and devoted themselves entirely to work. You know, something you enjoy.
Andreas: In that case, I thoroughly enjoy kicking the crap out of Ares and Heracles every chance I get. Oh and when I’m not doing that, I have a newfound addiction to videogames. My nephews got me onto those. Fun stuff. I can kill all I want and not have to clean up after. I just turn the console off. Zeus bless whoever invented those games.
What is your favorite part of your story?
Andreas: Watch it, human, my story isn’t over yet.
Jarel: Be nice, boy. I did raise you with manners.
Andreas: No you didn’t. I was an adult when I met you. And I’m a Spartan soldier. Who needs manners?
Jarel: Dragons that don’t want to be knocked into the next millennium.
Andreas: Fine, I’ll be nice. I’m ready to get back to Kazarian anyway. So my favorite part of my story is when Zeus not only gives Kazarian a new life, Ares makes him a god to replace Eris, the goddess of discord and his right hand man in battle. They gave me the other half of my soul back and ensured that there’s no way he’ll ever die again. Speaking of which, I need to get back to him. We have things to discuss.
Jarel: Is that young people’s way of saying you’re going to go screw?
Andreas: And you complain about my manners. Geez.
Year 9,234 B.C.
Chaos reigned supreme. This was a battlefield. The Spartans were expanding their territory, or so they thought. This wasn’t the easy victory they’d thought. In the midst of this blood bath, two men fought side by side. Andreas had the only man in the army he trusted at his back, Kazarian. Andreas was the taller of the two, but only by a couple of inches. They were in full Spartan armor, a sword in their right hand and shield in their left. They were surrounded, but that wasn’t new. They were trained for this.
“You holding up back there?” Andreas asked, parrying a shot from a sword and slashing his attacker across the stomach.
“I’m fine,” Kazarian answered.
“We gotta get out of this. We need room to take them out.” Andreas blocked with his shield arm and stabbed the next attacker in the stomach, quickly withdrawing his sword.
“Any suggestions on how to do that?” Kazarian kicked an attacker off, then slashed him across the face with his sword.
“Yeah, I got an idea.” Andreas turned and grabbed Kazarian by the vest of his armor, then jumped up high into the air, flipping over the large group surrounding them. The opposition could only look up in awe at the height Andreas achieved before he landed outside of their ranks, joining up with several allies.
“Holy shit, how the hell did you do that?” Kazarian asked.
“I guess it’s true that I’m the son of a god,” Andreas answered. “Now get ready.”
The opposing army had regained themselves, and charged in. This time, fortunately, Andreas and Kazarian had help, so they couldn’t be surrounded. The Spartans charged in too, Andreas and Kazarian never separating. Their swords were red with blood, and it was only going to get worse. The two slashed their way through the onslaught, each one protecting the other, leading their unit through the chaos, even though they weren’t officers at all. They were merely the fiercest of their unit, and there were certainly people taking notice.
Battle is unpredictable, however, and the Spartans hadn’t counted on reinforcements. But just when they seemed on the cusp of victory, the reinforcements showed. The Spartans were tired, though the idea of surrender didn’t occur. They would continue to fight.
“Shit!” Kazarian swore, “Who the hell are these people?”
“Athenians,” Andreas answered coldly, his defiant focus falling upon the body armor worn by the encroaching mass.
Kazarian spat upon the ground, a little blood mixed with the spittle, as he considered the numerical advantage of their enemy,
“Well this isn’t going to be pleasant. So what is our strategy?”
“You know Ares’ rules. We don’t surrender, we don’t negotiate. We fight for the honor of Sparta.” Andreas wiped sweat and blood from his brow with his arm. “And today, it looks like we’ll die fighting for Sparta.”
Kazarian looked hard to the fast approaching hordes and then Andreas. “If we’re going to die here, then I have to do something one last time.”
Andreas grimaced at the implications of his closest friend and greatest love’s words and turned his head to see the diminished numbers of the Spartan unit who similarly talked amongst themselves; perhaps saying their farewells in preparation for the Athenian onslaught. He smiled his acceptance of the end and looked deep into Kazarian’s dark brown eyes.
These years filled with trust and love forged through the most strenuous of combat training and battle, fighting side by side, back to back, and a shared intimacy were reflected between them as they gazed into each other’s eyes. They understood that the forces they stood against were too great to offer any hope of survival.
They would be dead before their own reinforcements could arrive.
They removed their helmets and leaned in, their lips coming together for that one last kiss. All their love and emotion poured into it, for what they couldn’t deny would be the last kiss they would share. They broke apart, eyes still locked on each other for several seconds, before they finally put their helmets on again and raised their swords and shields. They turned and the unit charged in.
The battle was fierce and the losses were great; the lovers fought with all the fervor of the Spartan spirit. Their comrades were inspired by these two brave and fierce warriors, but the numbers they faced were too great to be overcome by passion alone.
The Spartan force dwindled as the legions of Athena overran them, but still the pair fought on. Andreas lost his chest plate in the fray, revealing a black dragon shaped birthmark that stretched the length of his left breast, at the exact moment that an Athenian blade pierced Kazarian’s chest from behind.
Andreas screamed his denial as Kazarian fell to the ground, mortally wounded. As the blood flowed up through Kazarian’s mouth, Andreas let out a howl of pure rage and swung his sword with all his might at the warrior that had taken his love. The sword struck and cut through the warrior’s neck, beheading him. Finally defeated by the sight of his fallen comrade and lover, Andreas dropped his sword and turned from the conflict, falling beside Kazarian and cradling his head into his arms.
Andreas wept at the loss of his soul mate, no longer concerned that the enemy was bearing down on him to likewise cut his life short. The warriors encircled the pair, their weapons held high meaning to strike Andreas where he knelt, but they were brought to a halt by a dazzling burst of light that appeared behind their target. The Athenians backed away in fear and confusion as the light faded to reveal the war god Ares and his female counterpart Athena.
“Stop!” Athena bellowed. “This battle will stop now.”
Ares walked over to Andreas. “You are a child of the Black Dragon God. We cannot allow you to die here.”
Andreas, eyes blurred with tears, looked up. “What about him? Can you bring him back?”
Ares looked to Athena, who shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” Ares told him. “He is mortal, and suffered a mortal’s death. I cannot help him.”
Kazarian coughed up blood, returning Andreas’ attention to him.
“I will not leave him, not until he has passed and I can bury him properly,” Andreas told him. “You had the power to stop this before he died. You let him die. I will remain here.”
Ares couldn’t argue with him. He could not take him against his will, and his timing had been off. Andreas looked into Kazarian’s brown eyes one more time, whispering softly to him. Kazarian couldn’t speak, though he tried and coughed up blood. The life slowly drained from him, and when he passed, Andreas let out the cry of a warrior who has lost his inspiration, his life, his love.
Drako was born in 1987 in St. Louis, Missouri. He is mainly a fantasy writer, though he also writes some poetry and general fiction. He is very active on both twitter and facebook and has his own website at www.drakosden.net which is frequently updated with news on his books and fun extras
Thanks for being here, Drako and good luck with your dragon story!