Klavon heard the flap of wings as he exited his fortress and walked into the early morning light, shrouded as he preferred, in clouds.
Fraenir landed. “I have it. How are your plans at the village progressing?”
“Quite well,” answered Klavon. “I will return tonight, but I believe any day now, we will have a better understanding of our young sorcerer’s talents.”
“And Prydon? Are you certain you don’t want—”
“It is imperative that they not recognize me. For that to happen, there is no scenario where you could be present. Don’t worry, my friend. I can handle Prydon,” said Klavon. “It is only for a short time, and once I see what needs to be seen, I will leave—and no one will ever suspect it was me.”
Fraenir nodded and bowed, and then he held out his clawed hand. As the fingers uncurled, in his palm lay a dragon’s stone.
“Ahhh,” said Klavon, and he took the stone from Fraenir’s hand. “Are you ready?”
“I am,” said Fraenir.
“I will not deceive you. This will be most unpleasant, but I assure you that it will be well worth the initial pain.”
Fraenir closed his eyes. “I am ready.”
Klavon cupped the stone in both hands and whispered strange words. The words seemed to form an amber mist, swirling around the stone until they settled like a net, completely encasing it with its poison.
Klavon then raised his hands high above his head, still holding the stone, and thrust the jewel directly into Fraenir’s chest. Fraenir screamed, fire shooting all around.
Klavon stepped back as the beast writhed in pain, stumbling and falling and then straining again to stand, raising his head and screaming a cry that only a dragon—only an astaroth can.
The sorcerer watched as the stone fused deep into Fraenir’s scales. An amber net remaining as a cover almost as if it were a protective force, keeping the stone in place.
Fraenir continued to scream until he collapsed to the ground. Klavon walked over to him and spoke quietly into the beast’s ear.
“You are going to be fine…extraordinary in fact.”
Klavon placed a hand on the stone, and Fraenir’s breathing slowed. Slowly the dragon’s eyes opened.
“It is done,” said Klavon.
Fraenir stood once again, no waiver in his step, and took a heavy breath.
“How do you feel?”
Fraenir nodded. “Good…better than good.”
The amber-encased stone pulsed in Fraenir’s chest, and red lightning began to spread through his veins, visible in streaks throughout his scales and wings. It was a threatening look, and Klavon knew that when Prydon saw this, that alone would cause him fear.
Klavon grinned and laughed. “You have power no other of your kind has ever had. Prydon will not know what hit him, the next time he faces you.”
“But not the village?” asked Fraenir.
“Patience, Fraenir, patience,” said Klavon. “The village is simply a tool of manipulation. Your time will come soon enough, and you will destroy Prydon once and for all.”
Chapter Twenty-three
The Minion’s Hold
Darius and the Dragon's Stone Page 29
