For most of a morning, they circled the city, forcing the people to flee either into, or out of, its confining protection. Most of the outer city was deserted as the people found the sturdier holds in which to hunker down. Richard relished the fear as much as the Nightshade had, and it filled him with an intense bloodlust that was multiplied tenfold by the tainted dour flowing through him from all his dragon tears. He was lost in the delicious screams of a woman as he had Bruiser slowly squeeze her life from her, but suddenly Richard’s attention, as well as that of most of the mudged around him, was drawn to a point in the sky a little higher above the city than they were. Something was approaching from the north.
Dragoneers.
No, it wasn’t the Dragoneers, but three riderless High Draci: one of them frosty-white, but half of Zahrellion’s dragon’s size, a green so long and dark as to be more than a thousand years old, and a red that was just as big. Then came a fourth High Dracus. This one was scraggly-looking and scaled brightly in blue. The blue had a rider, which surprised Richard, for she was a tiny, red-haired girl, and she was just sitting there smirking at him with her arms on her hips. The blue dragon reminded him so much of Royal he had Bruiser drop the woman they were torturing and hovered him up a little bit. He wanted to take in these newcomers at eye level.
Hi, Uncle Richard, the girl said. I’m Milly, and it’s time for you to go.
Milly? Richard was baffled, for his spies had told him of his niece, but not of how strange she was. He’d thought she’d been painting her face white like the young girls in the streets of the Mainland were all doing. He would never have guessed that it was her real complexion and they were mimicking her, yet it made sense. She was Jenka’s daughter and the sole princess of this land. The girls of the area would try to mimic her look, just like the Vikarian girls all tried to look like his wife.
Just the presence of the High Dracus sent the mudged not directly under Richard’s control fleeing in all directions. Without the Nightshade to command them, they were following their own instinct. Bruiser and Richard’s dozen collared wyrms were still there, but shivering with fear. His two remaining riders and their collared mudged were there, too, but had moved away from their king as if he had the plague.
Richard was too far gone to remember what fear was, and he knew it. In the bat of an eye, he used his dragon tears to blast her with the fastest pulse of power he could conjure. His intent was to end her and teleport away, and maybe see how these unfamiliar dragons reacted as he was going, but she disappeared, dragon and all, and then reappeared just a rock’s throw directly in front of him.
Had he been on Royal’s back, his mighty blue might have tail-whipped them across the sky where they were. Richard, like everyone else, couldn’t see them when they were moving, but he had been trained by Vax Noffa, Clover’s son, one of the greatest wizards who ever lived.
He did the first thing that came to mind and cast a simple spell to detect magic. After that he could sense where the crafty little girl was, or where she had just been.
He suddenly realized two things then. The first was that his foot was cold and apparently open to the elements.
The second thing was that he’d sensed her right there, whispering something in his ear. It was an instant of time to him, and he glared at where she’d appeared for he hated being mocked more than anything. He was smart enough to know, though, that he might get an opportunity to get away. Still, he had to test her.
You’ve been the Nightshade’s toy, Uncle, Amelia said, as sure as a princess should be. She had his boot in her hand and after taking a quick sniff, she scrunched up her nose and tossed it to the side.
There was silence as it fell, and Richard felt her daring him, even then, as she disappeared for an instant, and his other foot felt the chill of the air.
Suddenly, she was there standing on his dragon.
“You-can’t-win—” she said slowly, her voice deep and warbling. She batted her eyes a dozen times in the short span of the moment. Then she was right back in the sky on the thin, blue High Dracus, almost exactly where she’d been. It only seemed like she’d wavered in place, yet here she was shoving his other boot into the air ahead of her.
It didn’t go as far as her little girl arms had wanted it to, and it bounced off the back of her mount’s head. Her look of dismay when the blue looked back at her and glared was almost comical, but the tone of her voice wasn’t.
The Nightshade is meeting its end on Serpent’s Isle as we speak. You were on that little island a while. Take the coffers here and go find another. Thrive. The great regal prince who saved this world from the anomaly called Gravelbone will always be remembered, but if you do not go away, and stay away, I will bring all the High Draci in the world down on you, and then tear you limb from limb, just like you did all those innocents you kept in the dungeons of King’s Isle.
The simple fact that this little girl had already de-booted him and could put a dagger in his chest before he could stop her was terrifying. He was as scared of being ended at that moment as he had ever been. The commanding way in which she talked to him spoke of true royalty. He was raging angry, but not mad enough to give up all he’d gained on the other side of the world. He had a kingdom. He was still the King of Vikaria. He had a wife.
Richard reached out for the Nightshade one last time, hoping to feel its familiarity return to him, but it wasn’t there. Nothing was there.
No, you will not return to Vikaria, Uncle Bootless. You will find an island, or a forest, or an elven deep, for all I care, but you will not call yourself king of anything as long as my father and brother are alive. The girl was serious, and firm, and he was ready to leave anyway. Even as two of the High Draci around her flashed away, teleporting from the sky, he understood he couldn’t win here.
Live like a king, his niece said quickly, as if she were running out of patience. This world owes you all you desire. For you and Royal saved it from an unfathomable blight. Nothing would exist here if it weren’t for what you and he sacrificed. We all know that, so just go.
How had she read his mind? He felt Bruiser’s fear reach a peak. He did have a huge dragon tear, and two others. He had Bruiser, too. He decided he could lead his riders somewhere, kill them, and take their teardrops, too.
He let out a heavy sigh.
My father would have liked you, he told her. My mother, too. Then he urged Bruiser and his riders to follow him east. The other side of the Cut was still unsettled. He could take the teardrops from Baru and Kovin there and just leave them. Or maybe he could use them to get a foothold elsewhere. Harthgar was a continent crowded with enough people that he could fulfill his bloodlust and prosper without even being noticed.
Either way, he would have the boots off one of them. Fortunately for Baru, Kovin would be the easiest of them to kill. He was also the closest to Richard’s size.
Rikky did all he could for Jade, and Jenka was thankful. The dragon would survive, but couldn’t currently fly, which meant Jade had to paddle his way to the island, where Zahrellion and March were battling the Sarsaraxus.
Jenka’s legs had long, partially healed-over furrows where the Nightshade’s teeth had slid down them as he fought his way free. He found that he couldn’t use his hyper-movement, or any magic other than that which came from his alien essence, when he was surrounded completely by seawater. He had had to fight his way out of that maw with naught but his own will and strength. He’d been pulled a long way under and passed out as he floated to the surface. When he opened his eyes, it was Rikky Camille looking at him, sending a pain-relieving feeling rushing over him, and then shucking him off to the side to drift, as he must have been floating for some time.
Blaze suddenly died. Jenka felt it, as did all the Dragoneers and their dragons. Then Marcherion hit the ground, and Rikky screamed out with all he had, Nooo!
“Go,” Jenka croaked. He wasn’t sure what he could do with ruined legs and no dragon, but he would think of something. He was already formulat
ing an idea, and glad to see that Silva dove into the sea and came up under one-legged Rikky, allowing him to gain his saddle easily enough that they were in the air before Jenka’s first coral-green teardrop plopped into the sea.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Nightshade shot out of the water again, but this time it landed on the beach and began burning harsh slices through Jade’s scales and flesh as the wounded green dragon paddled this way and that, trying to avoid the painful rays.
Zahrellion couldn’t see the Sarsaraxus, for it was moving far too swiftly. According to Jenka, if it gained the Nightshade’s back, then both of them would be able to move that fast, and they would get away, or maybe even decimate them right here.
The Druids of Dou had always believed that your life’s wrongs come back around. Zahrelllion decided that maybe they all deserved to die out here, where they’d banished a man who’d saved them all three times over.
Zahrellion couldn’t hate Herald enough, even though he was dead. How had he killed a chained wyrm just like that? It was why she’d told Amelia to spare Richard. She’d been leery at first, allowing a child of Amelia’s age to handle Jenka’s abused and forgotten brother, but there were four dragons with her, and the girl was probably as powerful as any of them.
She knew Richard had been a good man before Gravelbone captured him. It was like a sickness. He probably couldn’t be cured, but he wasn’t the person he was now because he’d chosen that path. His path had been chosen for him, or maybe the journey had just taken its toll. He was the way he was because he lost his dragon, because he was tortured and banished by the very people he’d saved by sacrificing his sanity. This hadn’t been how she thought of Richard in the past, but Jenka recently reminded her that they owed Richard life, at the very least. Then hearing that it had been Herald, a man she had loved and trusted, who had murdered Royal’s twin gave her a sort of understanding. Richard wasn’t evil, and he had every right to be bitter. Richard was a valiant hero who was destroyed by the battles he’d won. After that, all the atrocious things he did were nothing more than the effects of a sickness.
Seeing Jade stuck in the open incited her to take a chance. She had Crystal spray as much of her frosty spew over the beach as she could. If the Sarsaraxus was there, it would have to avoid the stuff. Even in hyper-speed, her dragon’s breath would be frigid. In fact, Zahrellion thought it might make the beach that much colder for the creature as it had to spend a hundred times longer surrounded by all the frigid liquid moving at a snail’s pace around it.
She decided that was how it would be for the thing. If everything slowed around them when they were moving like that, as Jenka and Amelia had separately described to her, then her dragon’s breath would stay cold, and the creature would be moving through it as the stuff practically hovered around it. It would be like an ice storm happening so slowly that everything got frozen to the core, because of the longer, slower buildup of the chill.
The island wasn’t that big. With the sword, Zah sent similar explosions of icy stuff over every space, intentionally leaving one area open.
She was relieved to learn from Amelia that Richard was leaving without resisting, and even more pleased that two of the High Draci appeared in the sky over the beach. One of them, the dark green dragon, spat a powerful blast that sent the Nightshade flailing and left a huge crater on the beach, which immediately started filling with water.
Then she saw the swarm of mudged coming toward them from the direction of the Mainland.
They were like a flock of giant birds, all flying in shifting formations of a score or more. There were a few groups, probably three hundred of them that she could see, maybe more.
Something hit her and Crystal with a force then, but they were well warded, and the strange magic of the sword protected them from anything more than being pushed across the sky.
Apparently, the Sarsaraxus was angry with her, but she couldn’t see it, so she had Crystal start toward the swarming mudged. The Nightshade was controlling them and now engaged in an aerial battle with the two High Draci.
Zahrellion called for Amelia across the ethereal. If they hurried, they could end this. Marcherion had been right. With Jenka wounded so badly, her daughter was the only one who could so much as see the creature.
With the sword, and all her alien intelligence and ability, Amelia would have to end this thing. Until Milly got here, though, Zahrellion was going to fill the sea around Serpent’s Isle with dead wyrms.
Aikira cast a wizardly healing spell on Jenka. Then she gently levitated him up out of the water to sit in the saddle behind her. He screamed when his legs were spread by the golden-scaled dragon’s girth, but he used his dragon tear, his alien essence, and all the will he could muster to strap himself in the saddle behind her.
It will be dizzying at first, and we will have to avoid Zahrellion’s clever trick, Jenka said as quickly as he’d ever spoken to her since his encounter with the alien.
She wasn’t sure where the drifting, lime-eyed person she’d grown used to was, but she was sure he’d thought to her that fast so he could get all the words out before the world around them went spinning, and then returned to her, only frozen. No, it was still moving, but so slowly that her mind, and even her ancient dragon’s, had to take a few moments to get used to it.
They saw the Sarsaraxus then, and Golden started for it with a purpose. It had to avoid all the slowly falling ice Zahrellion had left. When they saw what had been done to Jade, Aikira felt Jenka’s rage building behind her. Her own anger was peaking, for not only was the young green dragon striped with bloody lines, but Marcherion was dead, and so was his dragon, and there was no fixing it.
Quick, all three of us at once, before it realizes we are moving with it, Jenka’s thought assailed her.
Aikira felt a vibration behind her that sent a shiver up her spine. How one man could have so much power and knowledge flowing through him all the time was beyond her. The energy left him unseen, and just as soon as it started crackling yellow and spider-webbing all around the startled Sarsaraxus, Aikira and Golden let loose, too.
Aikira sent a pulse of violent energy, and her dragon swooped past it and bathed it with a molten, golden spew.
Two things happened then.
The big black creature roared from the pain of Aikira’s blast more than anything, for Jenka’s evaporating web, and Golden’s hardening spew had mostly been diverted by whatever forces shielded it.
The second thing was that it sent a blast back at them, then ran across the island and traversed the rocky hills like a grown man climbing over a play yard hill. It leapt a hundred paces, at the very least, and landed on the Nightshade’s back, bringing it into hyper-mode, too.
The huge, older red dragon in the sky was an almost perfectly still target for the Sarsaraxus’s first blast, and a hole tore clean through the wyrm. It was the same way Blaze had met his end, and Aikira was suddenly stricken with sadness and worry that she’d never see her son again for, even as Jenka blasted, the other High Dracus was cored before their eyes.
Worse than that, after the creature gained the Nightshade’s back, it loosed a blast at Zahrellion and Crystal that was surely about to end them, too.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rikky. Marcherion’s ethereal voice was weak, but Rikky heard him.
I’m coming, Rikky said, using both his and Silva’s senses to try to locate exactly where he was on the island.
Yess. Marcherion was clearly struggling. Give my medallion to Jenka’s son. Swear it.
I will. Rikky knew he had to hurry.
Theressss, Silva hissed, indicating she saw Marcherion. She spiraled down into a rocky area that looked as if a terrible hail storm had just passed over.
Quit talking and wasting energy. We are almost there, Rikky said, but all hope drained from him when he saw his friend. Marcherion’s left heel was touching the back of his head, the whole leg underneath him, and his right arm lay in a swollen arc, as if his limb
had been broken, the elbow bones shattered completely.
Don’t heal me, Marcherion said. Take the medallion to Prince Jericho. Tell Aikira it is the metal surrounding my dragon tear that keeps me from the lust for its power.
For a moment, Rikky didn’t feel March there at all.
Tell Jenka and Zahrell…
By the time Rikky teleported from Silva’s back to his friend’s side, March was dead. Rikky did his best to straighten March’s body out, but he knew better than to try to revive his friend. Just the idea of living on without Silva tore his heart. March wouldn’t want to live on without Blaze. He knew his brother was at peace now, but Rikky wasn’t.
He took the medallion by the chain and pulled it over his head. “It will not come off until I give it to the prince.” Rikky closed Marcherion’s eyes and wiped a tear from his own cheek. When he tried to get up, his peg leg slipped on the ice.
AAAAAGGGGGGHHH, he yelled across all the planes of existence, for such was the power Marcherion’s teardrop medallion added to his own that he didn’t fall but was supported by their combined forces.
He wanted to stay and fight. With this multiplied power not making his head swim, he could do great damage to the swarming mudged, but he’d sworn to give the teardrop to Jericho. He was just as angry over that as he was at the fargin’ bastard who killed March, but he understood now. The sword and the medallion were meant to be together, or so it seemed, for they’d been found that way. Jericho would have the sword, and he knew the story of the white stag and the body March and his friend had found in the cavern. The prince wasn’t bonded with a wyrm. As a king, he would need the power of a teardrop that didn’t overcome him like the huge magical jewels often did.
With more regret than he could measure, Rikky teleported to Clover’s castle, where the ogres and several High Draci were guarding over the crown prince.
He wanted to give the boy the thing and get back to the battle, and he would. Even through his sorrow, or maybe because she’d been a lover, he thought about Clover. He hadn’t seen her in the sky over the island. In fact, he hadn’t seen her since he left the castle last time, but then again, the sky had filled with mudged just as he was leaving. Maybe she’d been in it, or off laying a trap?
Blood and Royalty (Book three of the Royalty Trilogy): 2016 Modernized Format (Dragoneers Saga) Page 9
