Lord Of Dragons (Book 2) (8 page)

Prove yourself worthy and perhaps I will consider a meeting.

— K

How could he ever prove himself more worthy? He'd unified all the fractured fiefs and brought together the various lords under one kingdom, and with the help of the Hakkadians, had conquered and subdued the dragons. Unfortunately the Hakkadian traitor, Master Vhelan, had just stolen most of the dragons. But that was another matter for him to deal with soon. He couldn't allow theft of his property to go unpunished.

The Prince's fiery-green eyes blazed as he stared at Braxion as if wondering whether he was paying attention. "It seems that Master Greyth Shalinor is still alive, as is his grandson. And your daughter is with the young Tael Shalinor in Glar Bay. The witch Jesmia has given one of my servants an interesting account after she interrogated the boy. They are attempting to go west and form an alliance with the Malathians."

"Little good that will offer them. The Malathians are weak—"

"Perhaps you should listen to my entire report before interjecting commentary, grandson? I'm afraid your rash, human blood is too strong... There is much you need to prove before displaying your arrogance to the world. The only thing that matters is for us to secure the artifacts necessary to grant my freedom from this gloomy prison. And so far the only artifact we've secured is the Amulet of Tabershem, and this is because of the demon we successfully implanted in Master Loral of the Arcanum. What of the Malathians?"

"We've had several border skirmishes with them." King Braxion cleared his throat in embarrassment, knowing how he handled the Malathians was a disaster. "I was about to call an army against their kingdom—"

"None of that is of any importance. The dwarves are far more urgent to our cause. We can deal with the Malathians later. The elves are an entirely different story... For now, go at once and deal with the dwarves in Magrad. Our spies tell us that the traitor, Master Vhelan, has negotiated an alliance with them. Your reputation among the other Princes is dwindling, and our Lord and Master is demanding progress. Win this battle against the dwarves and you might find favor returning to you, Koroshen has indicted this to me. Fail, and you'll find your head offered as a sacrifice to the dragons."

King Braxion bowed his head in subservience to Prince Xanthes, knowing that his punishment should have been far worse for what had happened to the dragons. In a bold move, he raised his voice once again as his grandfather was about to leave the dark chamber.

"Thank you for your kindness. I will not fail against the dwarves." He cleared his throat and glanced at the Prince's demonic eyes. "And what other news have your heard from the witch in Glar Bay?"

"Nothing that you need to know." The Prince studied Braxion as if deeming him unworthy of his respect. "The next time I share information with you, try and keep your mouth shut long enough to listen. Remember, you are not the only grandson I have in this world. There are others waiting to take your place. Keep this in mind as you venture out to conquer the dwarves."

Prince Xanthes turned and left the empty chamber. But the crystal eye on the table still stared at Braxion, unblinking and unnerving, as if measuring the weight what it saw. After a long, uncomfortable time, it faded slowly into darkness. His mother was watching him. If he proved himself on the battlefield against the dwarves, she would finally agree to meet. A fire raged in his belly as he pictured the slaughter of the dwarven army, and gaining revenge against the Hakkadian rebels led by Master Vhelan. Braxion still had the dragon king, Keraxes, and he was certain the other dragons would obey and follow them once Keraxes commanded it.

It was time to go to war.

Chapter Nine

IN THE MOONLIT aura of the ice-capped mountains, Master Vhelan flew with the sixteen dragons of his group, searching the skies for any signs of King Braxion's dragon, Keraxes. If the King only flew with the four dragons that had accompanied him on his last flight to Naverstrom, then Master Vhelan would ruthlessly strike and strive to conquer or kill all the dragons and their riders. But if the other Hakkadians in Naverstrom had managed to acquire other dragons from the remnants up north, then the sorcerer knew he was likely doomed to fail.
 

Flying out here on such a calm night increased their risk of discovery by King Braxion, but it also provided Master Vhelan with a clear view of the sky and of the draenyx army marching below. They had perhaps only half a day before the abominations sieged the gates of Magrad. Hopefully Master Vhelan's sorcerers had enough time to successful ward the tunnels into the dwarven city, and seal the gates with their destructive runes. Not that it was enough to stop the thousands of strange and powerful creatures.

Far out near the twin peaks of Var'kalla, he spotted a shimmer of light move across the horizon. There! He had been flying these mountains for hours, keeping sight of the draenyx army below, hoping for a chance to intercept King Braxion and his allies before they reached the army. It was Master Vhelan's only chance to gain an advantage in the war. If he failed now he knew he had to quickly return to Magrad and help aid the dwarves. With Mistress Lassendre held inside the filthy, dwarven city, he had no choice...

He could communicate with Master Rennal in his mind, a skill he had developed with a few of his eldest sorcerers. His head swiveled around to where Master Vhelan told him to look, and together they aimed their dragons higher to gain the advantage against the King and his dragons. If they were lucky, Braxion would be so focused on the army that he would fail to notice their attack from above.
An unlikely occurrence
.

Sliding in between two low clouds, he spied down on the snaking silhouettes of almost fifty dragons flying in three separate formations. His heart sank as he shook his head, hoping some hallucination of high altitude was affecting his mind. But there they were, strong in numbers and menacing in purpose. And utterly undefeatable in the air. Master Vhelan dove east towards Magrad, hoping to gain enough speed for them to outrun King Braxion and his dragons.

But as they fled towards the tall mountain of Karkellian, all the enemy dragons sped over to intercept them in a blazing stream of light. Master Vhelan gaped at their speed, wondering if the Princes of Naverstrom had granted the Hakkadian sorcerers loyal to their cause new magic that aided in their dragon flight? Even plummeting at their tremendous velocity towards Magrad, he doubted whether they would be fast enough to land unmolested by the enemy dragons.

He had only one chance to survive out here in the open against King Braxion. A costly spell that would weaken him for days. If it worked... One of the only spells he had never taught another sorcerer, for the cost to one's inner reserve of power could be deadly. The few bits of knowledge his great grandfather had passed along to him before he was killed, hundreds of years ago before the Hakkadians had made the mistake of stumbling into the caves of Naverstrom. A spell only for those in an absolutely hopeless situation.

With the blazing sun pictured clear in his mind, Master Vhelan allowed the heat to rage inside his body. To cool himself, he removed the magical shield and breathed in the wild, cold winds that struck him in a sudden blast. The heat still flamed strong, and he could see his hands glowing white-hot with power. He focused on the enemy Hakkadians, splitting his mind in fifty different parts for each opponent. In a sudden soothing release of power, the energy shot from his fingertips and instantly ignited the enemy sorcerers in burst of flame.

He slumped against his dragon, and tied his arms to his saddle, exhaustion washing over him in a wave of sleepiness.
Take me to Magrad
, he commanded his dragon. But before his mind lapsed in unconsciousness, he felt a wave of euphoria rush over his body as he spotted the enemy dragons twisting and abandoning their flaming riders. He had done it. He had slain the host of enemy sorcerers and ensured those dragons would never again fight for King Braxion. He commanded his elder sorcerers to secure the dragons and keep them safe.
 

Flying back to the mountain, he knew they would live to find the protection of the dwarven city, at least until Magrad fell to the draenyx army...

Chapter Ten

SEBINE REALIZED SHE had to exploit her advantage against the witch while her back was still turned. The witch opened the door with a silver key that flared runes along the edge. If Sebine moved to follow the woman through the door, she was certain she would be discovered. And then it would merely be a magical melee, one that Sebine feared she would lose due to her inexperience in dueling magicians. Out of fear for having her spell reflected back onto herself, for she had heard of spells of reflection, and the casting of wards on oneself (a skill she'd never learned), she cast a weak testing spell which shoved Jesmia against the steel door.

With her back braced against the wall, all Sebine felt was a force pushing her chest, causing the stones to dig into her shoulder blades. The young witch stumbled but quickly recovered, and pivoting around, she prepared to strike.
 

"Who dared attack me?" the witch hissed, and flared out a burst of light to reveal Sebine cowering in the corner of the room.

But it was too late, for Sebine cast the stunning spell and the woman froze, her long arms stretched out in preparation for casting another spell. For a second Sebine consider hurling the witch against the door and knocking her unconscious, but caution told her to cast the boiling spell on the woman's brain. Blood exploded in a gruesome shower from her eye sockets and mouth and nostrils, and a line of blood dribbled down her earlobe as the witch crumpled to the ground in a heavy heap.

Sebine smiled to herself, remembering how the witch had looked at Tael with lust in her eyes, and had commanded her to leave Lord Oberon's chamber with such a dismissive expression. The witch got what she deserved. Especially considering all the atrocities she had done to the addicts outside...

After she strode over and bent down next to the witch's body, she retrieved the silver key from the pool of blood expanding underneath the woman. Jesmia had been both beautiful and seductive, and it was no wonder that old man Oberon was taken in by her charms. But now her face looked like a rag doll that's been chewed by a dog.

Inside the laboratory she heard the scraping sound of many feet shuffling towards her and she went still. For what dark purpose did the witch use the severed heads in her laboratory? Fear pounded her heart and her breathing went shallow as she cast a spell and raised the light slowly in the room. She could see Tael naked and splayed on a low bed, and the healed scars over his chest. He was tied up with leather shackles, but to her relief, she could see that he was still alive. His eyes frantically glanced back and forth in horror from Sebine to tens of tall, spindly shadow figures shambling towards her in the darkness of the laboratory.

Despite her spell of illumination, the shadow figures were unaffected, and tendrils of darkness lapped out from their black cores at the light, licking and consuming the power, causing them to strengthen in size as they advanced. An immense coldness came quickly over her finger where the Ring of Galdora was, and an iciness spread up her arm and into her heart in a chilling embrace. She realized that the creatures were draining her magical power from the light spell. She instantly cast a spell of heat on a candle near the bed, and the room went dim as she eliminated the light spell. She gasped, feeling heat pouring back into her body. In a dash, she raced over to the bed and frantically untied Tael from his bonds.

 
"They're attracted to light and heat," Tael said, and wriggled off the bed and grabbed his clothes and backpack. "Behind us!"

As Sebine spun around towards the door, she spotted several of the shadow men that had circled around and blocked their way of escape. She flared several more candles to life and illuminated the bowels of the laboratory. With a quick whip of her hands she flung the witch's body against a tall shelf filled with flasks, and at the shattering of glass, she ignited the whole mess in a fiery explosion. Just as the shadow figures were about to overtake Sebine and Tael cringing at the back of the bed, the abominations veered away and shuffled towards the fire like moths to flame.