The Emerald Rider (Book Four of the Dragoneer Saga)

by M. R. Mathias

  He landed hard on a dirty paved floor, then he began looking around. The only feature of the large rectangular room was a sizable waist-high block of stone at either end. He remembered seeing a similar sacrificial altar at the temple of Dou.

  The stone nearest him was stained with blood and gore. All around it lay the decayed skeletons of larger things, some with horns and teeth, some more human than was comfortable to think about due to their great size. Behind each opposing altar block was a sizable barred gate, which probably cranked upward.

  “My grandfather’s trap actually caught one of you,” the voice of a young man said from somewhere above him.

  Jenka found it. It belonged to a dark-headed youth of about twenty years or so. The boy had a seasoned look about him, and his angled brow and deep, diving widow’s peak left him looking far more sinister than Jenka imagined he could be. The high-collared sapphire-blue robe he wore looked like true wizard’s garb, not something a priest or monk would wear.

  “Well, then, if you’re not just going to change into dragon form and slay us, we will complete Grandfather’s rendering and dig out his journals for the rest of it.” The young man looked up, and Jenka saw that a few others, these men robed in olive- and gray-colored robes, were starting to peer down from balconies set in the walls on either side of the pit. The top of the chamber looked as if it opened on the heavens themselves, but Jenka decided it was stained glass depictions and downward-facing mirrors that caused the effect. The concentrated illumination served to light up most of the fighting area. Jenka figured that he was a few stories under the tower of the newer temple now.

  The sound of a chain rattling, and then the grind of metal sliding on metal came to his ears. He turned to see a twelve-foot-tall minotaur step out of the far gate’s portal and start stretching its huge human arms and shoulders. Its horns were easily three strides wide, and its bullish head boasted two cherry eyes as evil as anything Jenka had ever imagined.

  Jenka tested his grip on his sword, but decided then and there that this was when he needed to use the Dour most. He called out to Jade when the magic started filling him. He was consumed in the torrential rush of it, and briefly forgot himself. It was in this instant that he realized Jade wasn’t responding to him.

  Jade, he yelled again with his mind, but there was still no reply. After a third try, he knew no response was coming, and he readied his head for battle.

  Chapter Eleven

  The minotaur jumped over the altar and took two long strides before Jenka threw forth a fist of energy at it. It went staggering back and fell over the raised block. Then Jenka threw another blast upward at the green- and gray-robed men huddled on the balconies. The Dour inside him naturally shielded him from a sizzling streak of blue energy that came from Xaffer’s grandson.

  He disregarded the young spell-caster and continued focusing his concentration on the horned beast and his unresponsive dragon.

  The minotaur jumped up onto the stone altar then and roared out as it flexed its muscles in a rage. Jenka decided to cast a levitation spell on his bullheaded foe and began to lift it from the altar.

  The surprised creature waved its arms and legs around frantically while howling out its displeasure. Then Jenka wound his arm back as if he were throwing a ball and literally heaved the minotaur back into the hole from which it came.

  He then reached out to Jade one last time before focusing all his power on the wizard.

  Halfway through his call, his ethereal voice vanished completely. He heard the wizard laugh and knew he was completely alone now. No bond-link, no ethereal. It was a shame, he decided as he unleashed a flow of searing Dour on them all. This arena was large enough that Jade could have torn the roof right off of the new temple and flown in to join him.

  “All we need is your blood, fool!” the young wizard called down with an authority surprising for his age. “Let us have some and we will let you leave. Refuse and we will draw it from your corpse.”

  Just then a whooshing of air behind Jenka caused him to dive and roll. Knives were flying, and from more than one direction. Most of the hurled objects were diverted from him by the natural aura of Dour protecting its host, but when a handful of men wearing uniforms, with swords and streamlined shields, rushed him, one of them finally found his flesh.

  A dozen of the uniformed men were tackling him then, trying to get the blood from his new wound. In a rage, he squeezed himself together tightly.

  “He is turning!” he heard one yell in anticipation.

  “I’ve got a vial full, Xerrin Fyl,” another man called before going into a fit of coughing.

  “End it then,” said the wizard.

  Jenka let his body and his energy explode outward and men went flying away from him. One impacted the altar behind him so hard that the sound of his crunching bones cut above the din. Another’s scream could be heard as a man sailed in an arc across the arena. It ended with a muffled thud.

  Xerrin Fyl looked around at the amount of damage done to the arena and then pointed at the minotaur. “You! End this thing,” he snarled and threw his arm forth. A flow of air-bending energy carried almost invisibly over into the creature.

  The thing staggered and took a deep breath, then roared out with ten times the vigor it had shown earlier. It was growing, too. By the time it was across the space and on Jenka, it was twenty feet tall and literally raring to attack him.

  Jenka wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with such a thing. He would be easy prey for the wizard and his minions while he battled it; nevertheless he had to do something.

  He turned and let five tiny streaks of intense Dour fly at the wizard called Xerrin Fyl, then teleported himself to a point in the air a few feet before the remaining two olive- and grey-robed men watching from the balcony.

  With two quick jabs of his sword he opened their throats. They didn’t even have a chance to register what was happening to them as blood spilled down their chests, and they went choking to the floor. A heartbeat later, Jenka teleported over to the young wizard.

  Xerrin Fyl was ready. One of Jenka’s little streaks of energy had found him and he didn’t look pleased to have been scorched so easily. A shielding came flaring forth, burning Jenka’s eyes and forcing his levitating body to tumble over backward and down. He caught himself before he crashed into the floor, but the minotaur was there. Jenka rolled over as the huge thing made to stomp him into the pavestones.

  The whole arena trembled as the huge foot smashed down. A long moment of silence passed before the monster lifted it. At the same moment the minotaur let out a howl of frustration, Xerrin Fyl started cursing. There was no gooey mess underneath as they’d hoped.

  The minotaur stopped raging and looked at its master curiously. It followed the wizard’s eyes to its own chest, where Jenka had appeared knee-deep and was now kicking savagely into the creature’s insides.

  “If he’s no dragon, he is as crafty as they come,” Xerrin Fyl called up, but found that all of the balconies were empty.

  The minotaur’s heart was now a ruin. The monster fell forward, forcing Jenka to teleport yet again. This time he appeared on the balcony directly across from the wizard.

  “You’ve a statue of a woman somewhere in this place. I will have it or I will destroy all of this.”

  “That bitch killed six of my grandfather’s beasts before he contained her, and you are about to join her for all eternity, dragon.” The smug look on the wizard’s face told Jenka that men were coming up behind him. He started to turn to fight them, but a jolt of negative energy cut through him like an ax blow, leaving him incoherent and vomiting on the floor.

  Chapter Twelve

  “This flying is for the fargin’ birds, boy,” Herald growled from behind Rikky. “These feet were never meant to leave the ground.”

  “Flying is for more than birds,” Rikky laughed at the old ranger’s discomfort. “We can land outside of Midwal for a spell, if you’d like. I’d hate for you to shit your britches up
here.”

  “Nah, nah, lad. I’ll stay put until we reach Mainsted. Just tell this wyrm to hurry it along.”

  “Remember you asked us to take it easy.” Rikky sent Silva a mental command to make haste.

  “Aye, I did, Rik,” Herald grumbled. “But that was afore my legs were being stretched in twain over Silva’s neck. I only have half an arse you— you— Oh, by the hells, what is she doing?”

  “We are hurrying it along.” Rikky wasn’t sure Herald could hear him now over the wind, but by the way the old man was squeezing onto him, it was clear he was determined to get the ride over with.

  Of all the Dragoneer wyrms, Silva was the fastest. She flew in an undulating flow that minimized her movements and propelled them in the air almost as if they were swimming through it. Within the span of a few heartbeats the world below was rushing past them in a blurry whir.

  Rikky could hear Herald grumbling about his eyepatch almost blowing off or something but ignored it until they were within sight of Mainsted’s harbor. When he heard, he wished he had paid attention.

  “I almost lost my patch, and your chair tumbled off, boy. The lashings broke clean away.”

  “I’ve got my peg.” Rikky’s stump was bruised and sore, but no more so than the weeks right after his amputation, when he was forced to adapt or be swallowed by Gravelbone’s invading horde. King Richard, Prince Richard then, riding his majestic blue dragon, Royal, saved him once out here. Now Richard rode the Nightshade and seemed unconcerned with the people struggling on the mainland.

  As they glided over Mainsted’s wall, Rikky decided he was wrong. These people were not struggling so much. The harbor was full of ships laden with goods. The streets were busy with commerce. Sure, some families were faring better than others, but that was the way of things.

  “Might have gone to Midwal instead, Rik,” Herald said. He was clinging to Rikky as if they were still flying fast. “Don’t look like any witches have been causing trouble here.”

  “What would trouble caused by witches look like from up here?” Rikky asked. “Look at that there.”

  Rikky pointed down at someone who was jumping around and waving his arms.

  The man went running through the cobbles to stay in sight of them. He knocked over an apple cart and forced a row of hooded priests to squeeze tight against a wall. He then ran up a ladder to one of the lower rooftops, snatching a length of brightly dyed material as he went. He finally stopped running and began waving the material around as if it were a flag. He pointed up to them and then to the roof of one of the taller structures. Rikky waved back and sent Silva in a slow circle around the place, allowing the eager person to climb the stairs up to the bell tower’s balcony.

  It took a while, but a man sporting a thick, well-trimmed beard appeared at the railing skirting the bell housing. He heaved spittle and air in and out of his lungs while holding a hand out, indicating that he needed a moment. After Silva hovered in as close as she could manage, Rikky realized he knew this person.

  “What is your name?” Rikky asked. “I know you.”

  “You do.” The man coughed but was getting his wind back. “You’ve a good eye, lad, for I’ve not recognized myself since I jumped the king in the harbor.”

  “Linux?” Rikky asked and felt Herald let go of him so he could reach for his sword.

  “You can’t slice him from here, Herald,” Rikky chuckled.

  “Your beard and gut go far toward hiding Rolph’s youth,” Herald called. “Last we heard, you were Richard’s pet wizard.”

  “I ran off.” Rolph’s unkempt head lolled in shame. “The king is gone off into the deep. He cares nothing for his kingdom… nothing.”

  Rikky and Herald bobbed up and down in short slight rises and falls as Silva kept them in a somewhat steady hover.

  “I’ve been hiding here, trying to scrounge up enough coin to get safe passage to Three Forks. Being a pot scrubber in Mainsted is a better way to pass my years than having the king’s favor on the islands.” The distraught man shivered in disgust. “He had me do things to people for him, terrible things. He was ruined by the demon, Gravelbone. He savors watching innocents suffer, and he swears that their sacrifice is the only thing that keeps him and his hellborn beast from killing even more of them.”

  “Have you heard of the Coven Wisteria?” Rikky blurted, eager to change the subject.

  “Have they sent you for me?” Linux looked around the sky as if Marcherion and Zahrellion might appear on their dragons at any moment and attack him. “No… They have killed the remaining Hazeltine and seek to destroy anyone who was ever affiliated with the druids of Dou or Mysterian’s witches. They have traders behind them, some of them charmed, I’m certain, but where coins flow so do capable men. They’d kill me if they knew who I was.”

  At the mention of his dead love’s name, Herald sighed and grunted. “They attacked Queen Zahrellion’s court and tried to kill Prince Jericho.”

  When Rikky looked back at him, Herald was scratching his head. “Does Richard have men looking for you?” the old ranger finally asked.

  “I am certain he does.”

  “Why are the city guards gathering down there?” Rikky asked after Silva told him what she was seeing. Rikky saw that they had a dragon gun rolling in on a horse-drawn cart and heeled Silva around to go confront them.

  Several of them had crossbows drawn and aimed, but none loosed when Silva stalled into a hover a few dozen yards above them.

  “How dare you ready to fire on me and Silva!” Rikky said. “Who gave such an order, and who is so forgetful to obey?”

  “I… uh… we follow Commander Fedran’s orders,” the man stammered. “He told us to warn you from the city, not to harm you.”

  “This city remains because of the Dragoneers, yet you would scare us from the sky?”

  “I… uh… we… we are just following the orders we were given.”

  “Who tells this Commander Fedran what to do?” Herald asked sharply. “I’ll nick the ear of any of you bastards that don’t let the cat out of the sack.”

  The sergeant of the troop reached to his left ear. “Sir, I served with you at Kingsman’s Keep before the Goblin King came.”

  The man looked even more afraid than he had been, as if standing before ear-nicking Herald was worse than standing before a silver dragon and its magic-wielding rider. “The commander orders us of his own will, but we all think his lover has gained more control of things than is proper.”

  “His lover?” Herald asked.

  “What does she look like?” Rikky asked over them. “Is she beautiful? Is her hair long and silky black?”

  Several men in the group nodded. All but one of them lowered their crossbows. Rikky marked the bolt still trained on them and decided that they’d better help Linux get out of the city and come up with a plan. This might be bigger than any of them expected.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Crimzon was full again and lazing. What little sky he could see outside the cavern was quickly turning from blue to gray. The waves crashing in had tripled in size, and even on the elevated shelf he’d claimed for a bed, tiny droplets of sea spray landed on his scales and sizzled away into a briny cloud of steam. It was from this somewhat hidden position that Crimzon learned the cavern had been marked as a feeding ground for something else.

  He raised his head ever so slowly to get a good vantage and had to fight back his territorial instinct to keep from attacking. First one, then two tentacles snaked out of the deeper water near the opening. They moved expertly, and soon each snatched up a wriggling seal and slowly pulled away. The sea cows and rock lions were screaming as they did when he was feeding, each trying to warn the other that death was among them. Crimzon couldn’t understand the creatures. The call they were making was clearly a warning, but not a single one of them tried to escape.

  If only deer were so easy, Crimzon chuckled and let his concern over the thing feeding below slide away. Two of those juicy morsels would sus
tain any sizable creature for a while. He’d eaten eleven of them this time, which was just one more than his last feeding.

  A few hours later the sky was black and Crimzon was seeing with his heat vision. Being a fire wyrm, sensing heat and cold was second nature to him. On the rocks and in the parts of the shallows where the sea wasn’t crashing, long oval blobs of orange were piled here and there. The cooler rocks were deep blue, while the water was black. He was looking down and contemplating the idea that a fish in cool water would have to be the same temperature as the water it was in, or very close.

  No, thatsss not ssso, he thought again. When I go insss the water my scales do not cool.

  He saw another tentacle then, similar to the first pair. This one was a long thick line that disappeared into the violently splashing black water. It took more time and singled out one of the larger blobs of heat.

  This piqued Crimzon’s curiosity, and he studied it intently. The thing had a row of saucer-sized, and eventually plate-sized, suction cups down its underside, but had no eyes or nostrils that he could discern. The previous tentacles had been the same, and he was starting to think this was the same creature. He scanned the dark area below the surface, where the tentacle disappeared, and couldn’t figure out what the appendage was connected to. Then he saw another tentacle in the back of the cavern, wrapped around one of the rocks. It had looked like a pile of seals, but now that he was following it, he realized the thing controlling the tentacles was already inside the cavern with him.

  Ooohh. He let his breath out and began drawing a fresh one. It was an octerror, or its kin. He and Clover had seen a ship taken down by an octerror in Harthgar’s busiest harbor. That one had been bound to the harbor master’s will by a sea witch. He used it to keep the captains and their crews in line. They said it had once reached five blocks into town to snatch a man who didn’t pay his fees proper. Crimzon remembered then that Clover said it used telepathy to single out the person. It could see the man’s face through the mind’s eye of the people around him.