Fury and the Dragon
The Redwood Dragons, Book 8
By Sloane Meyers
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Similarities to actual people or events are entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Sloane Meyers. All rights reserved.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Thank You For Reading!
More Books by Sloane Meyers
About the Author
Chapter One
Weston Pars flew through the night sky, the outline of his dragon body barely visible in the darkness. The scent of sulfur and ash filled his nostrils, traces of the stream of fire he had breathed out less than a minute before. The fire that had, maddeningly, missed its mark.
Weston did not dwell on his frustration, though. There was no time to feel sorry for himself right now. He had prey to catch, and he must not fail. He inhaled deeply, letting the cold night air fill his lungs and rinse away the remaining tinges of fire breath. He flapped his dark green dragon wings harder, willing himself to move even faster through the air. He was doing his best, but success was still far from guaranteed.
Catching a wizard was never an easy task.
Nevertheless, he tried. And somewhere to his left, he knew Violet was trying, too. In some ways, she stood a better chance than he did. She was a wizard herself, after all. She could fly through the air just as quickly as the escaping wizards in front of them. Her body, leaning low on her broomstick to encourage a more aerodynamic airflow, would fly a good bit faster than his larger dragon form. And yet, she needed him. She needed his dragon strength, and his dragon fire. If only she could catch the two fleeing wizards and hold them long enough for him to get to them, then he could bring them down. He could put an end to them, and to the worry that they would relay to enemy headquarters what they had seen.
Weston cursed himself for breathing out fire moments before. He should have known the fleeing wizards weren’t quite in range of his fire, but he had been too eager, and made an attempt to burn them anyway. All he had managed to do was slow himself down, and give his enemies a small moment of reprieve. Those bastards had been lucky for that, and he swore he would not let them be so lucky again.
Ahead of him, to his right, he caught a small glimpse of light. Then another. He realized with a start that Violet was somehow on his right now. She had pulled quite a distance in front of him, and Weston’s heart leapt with relief as he realized that she was on the verge of catching the escaping wizards. Less than a minute, he suspected, and she would be within shooting range. If she could land an attack spell or two on them, this pursuit would be all but over.
Weston couldn’t keep a wry smile from curling up the edges of his dragon lips. Of course, Violet was going to give him hell later about the fact that she had been the one to actually catch the wizards. Never mind that Weston had been the one to originally discover the two spies, or to have the presence of mind to quickly breathe fire on their radios, effectively cutting off all their communication with enemy headquarters. Violet would take as much credit as she could for this victory. And, Weston would take as much as he could. He and Violet loved to tease each other, and to sigh and moan about having to pick up slack for the other, but the truth was that neither one of them could have accomplished all they had on their own.
They worked better together, and they were about to prove it once more.
Weston slowed his pace slightly as he saw another flash of light just ahead. Violet was definitely firing off attack spells now, which meant she had caught up to the wizards. He needed to come in slow enough that she could see him and avoid hitting him with a spell. Dragon hides were tough, and could withstand many wizard spells. But they did have weak spots, and the last thing he wanted was to be accidentally stunned or wounded by a spell coming from Violet herself.
“Magicae appugno! Magicae appugno!”
As Weston slowed his flight, and the rush of wind in his ears lessened, he could hear the sound of Violet’s voice ringing across the sky. She was furiously throwing attack spells at the other two wizards, doing her best to keep them from flying away. They, in turn, were trying to throw spells back at her. She did her best to dodge their spells, and also put a great deal of her magical energy into a magic shield, to keep her safe. She wouldn’t be able to keep this delicate dance up very long, Weston knew. That was where he came in.
He let out a long, loud roar, and then went charging toward the fray with smoke billowing from his nostrils. He saw one of the enemy wizards looking up at him with wide eyes, registering his presence with just enough time to yell out “Magicae arma!” to throw a magic shield in front of Weston.
Weston’s long, streaming fire breath hit the shield a split second after it went up. The wizard screamed, and then shut his eyes tightly in concentration, trying to hold the shield in place against the deadly heat of Weston’s sulfurous dragon fire. The shield did its job, but it required all of the wizard’s energy, and Weston knew that no wizard could hold such a strong energy shield in place indefinitely. Weston paused for a beat, and then let out another long stream of fire. Meanwhile, Violet focused all of her attention on the other enemy wizard, who had momentarily tried to make a break for it. Out of the corner of his eye, Weston saw her shoot a stunning spell at the fleeing wizard, and then close in for fresh round of attack spells.
The next few minutes were a blur to Weston. The heat of battle always felt hazy and distorted to him. It was a strange sensation. On the one hand, he was one of the best soldiers in his clan. His fighting skills, especially in aerial combat, were unrivaled. And yet, he always felt like he was on autopilot when he fought. He felt like everything was happening too quickly for him to comprehend it all, like his eyes couldn’t keep up with the action around him. Somehow, he still managed to be an exceptional warrior. He supposed it came from years and years of practice. His clan leaders had always placed emphasis on fighting drills in the sky. For many years, Weston had thought the practice drills were a waste of time. Now, he was grateful. The world had never been in such desperate need of strong dragons who fought for the side of good.
Weston could see through the smoky, sulfur haze that the enemy wizards were slowly losing energy. Their shields were getting weaker, and their counterattacks were all but nonexistent at this point. The relief Weston felt was palpable. The last thing he needed was these two wizards running off to tell enemy headquarters everything they’d seen. He only hoped that they hadn’t already sent information back before being caught.
Weston breathed in deeply, preparing to launch another stream of fire in the direction of the enemy wizards, when Violet’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“No!” she screamed, followed almost immediately by “Magicae oblitero” at the top of her lungs. Confused, Weston pulled back slightly. Was she telling him to stop? Was she hurt? His eyes strained through the smoky darkness, but he could not see what the problem was. And then, moments later, two giant explosions rang across the sky. Right in front of Weston, the two wizards he’d been struggling to attack had exploded. Pieces of broomstick, clothing, and other things he didn’t want to think about started falling through the air like tiny falling stars.
“No, no, no!” Violet screamed again, whirling around in circles on her own broomstick as she watched them fall. Weston watched her point her magic ring at the flaming mess hurtling toward the earth. She let out a string of magic spells in such an urgent, hurried tone that it almost sounded like she was cursing. But whatever spells she was trying to cast had no effect. The flaming remains of the enemy wizards continued to fall toward the earth, fluttering almost beautifully against the night sky.
After about half a minute, Violet seemed to realize that her spells were useless. She pointed her broomstick downward, and sped at full speed toward the earth. Weston let out a smoky sigh, and followed her, descending at a much slower pace. They had been quite high up in the sky, so it took him a few minutes to reach the sandy desert floor. He felt grainy coolness between his toes, and he marveled at how rapidly the ground here could go from blazing hot in the day to blessedly cool at night. Violet had dismounted from her broomstick, and was walking around frantically amidst the burning remains of the two wizards. She was kicking at the little piles of burning debris, as though looking for something important. Weston sat on his dragon haunches and waited, watching her with glowing green eyes. Whatever she was looking for, she was unlikely to find in this mess. He still wasn’t sure what, exactly, had caused the huge explosion in the sky—he had quite a few wizard friends these days, and he’d never seen any of them cast a spell quite so dramatic—but it didn’t take a genius to see that there was nothing left of the wizards now except a pile of embers.
Violet finally seemed to accept this fact. She gave one of the larger piles of burning debris a powerful, frustrated kick, then looked up at Weston in resignation.
“We might as well go home,” she said. “Nothing left to see here. Although, I suppose I should clean up this mess just in case, so there really is nothing left to see. We’re in the middle of the desert, so it’s unlikely anyone will come by here. Still, better to be safe than sorry.”
Violet raised her magic ring and pointed it at one of the smoldering piles. “Magicae eradico,” she said. “Magicae eradico. Magicae eradico.”
She moved methodically back and forth, casting the obliteration spell over and over as she walked. Everywhere her magic ring pointed, the piles of debris turned instantly to dust. Weston continued to sit back and watch her. He could not speak while in dragon form, but it didn’t matter much. He didn’t have anything to say right now. He had realized, as Violet started destroying the evidence of their foes, why she was so upset: the enemies had not just been killed, they had been completely and utterly destroyed, which meant there was no possibility that any intelligence could be recovered from their bodies. A golden opportunity had been lost to do a little spying of their own.
Weston let out another long dragon sigh. It was not the first golden opportunity that had been lost during this war, and it certainly would not be the last. He hated to see Violet so upset, but she would get over it soon enough. The important thing was that the enemy wizards had not made it back to their headquarters, and Weston and Violet were both safe and uninjured.
Weston watched as Violet continued her cleanup efforts. A bit of wind was rushing across the dark desert right now, whipping her silky chestnut hair around her face. He could only see her silhouette, but that was all he needed to see to make his heart beat faster. He knew that nothing was guaranteed in war, but still, he had to believe that Violet was going to make it through every battle they faced. Allowing himself to think anything else would have filled him with a paralyzing feeling of despair.
And so, while Violet waved her magic ring around, cursing and ranting and casting obliteration spells, Weston breathed a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods might be out there. In that moment, nothing sounded more musical to him than Violet’s voice, angry though it was. He could not—would not—allow himself to think that they might not be so lucky in the next battle.
Chapter Two
Violet Sanwick bit her lip to hold back a groan of agony as she climbed the stairs to the second floor apartment she shared with Weston. She would never have dreamed of letting on in front of him how much she ached right now, but damn, did her muscles ache.
She wasn’t a soldier, not by training. But the last year had forced a lot of people who weren’t exactly soldiers to fight like they were. Violet had gone to university for several years to become a Wizard Advocate. Advocates worked mostly in offices, handling a variety of research tasks around magical laws and making recommendations on how to discipline wizards who had used these laws in an improper manner. Occasionally, Advocates would be sent out to the field to deal with situations where full humans had accidentally encountered a magical object or the use of magic. Sometimes, these cases might require a memory wiping spell, or subduing a spooked human. But that was about as wild as Violet’s life had been for the first several years of her career.
That all changed when Saul entered the picture. Saul, the evil dragon who also had wizard powers and was threatening to destroy everything Violet held dear. Violet had never been a soldier, true. Nevertheless she had jumped at the chance to join the dragon shifters out in the field, on a mission to find and destroy Saul’s headquarters. She hadn’t realized, though, when she signed up for this gig, that it was possible to feel as exhausted and sore as she did right now.
She’d been given a crash course in fighting right before leaving her hometown of Falcon Cross, and she’d thought she had the basics pretty well under control. But tonight had shown her that she still had quite a lot to learn. Lesson number one: nothing made your ass quite as sore as broomstick flying under threat of mortal danger. Violet winced despite her determination not to, and she reached back to rub her sore tailbone. Luckily, Weston seemed to have missed her expression of pain. He was too busy fumbling in his pockets for the keys to their apartment.
As she watched him, Violet considered, not for the first time, how strange it was to share an apartment with him. She would have been thrilled at this arrangement under normal circumstances. She’d had her eye on this handsome dragon for quite some time. But lately, with everyone so on edge, she was beginning to wonder if perhaps it would have been better if she’d ended up sharing an apartment with one of the female soldiers. Or heck, even with one of the other male soldiers, whom she wasn’t attracted to. She found it somewhat maddening to be constantly in the same apartment with this man, but always acting like there was nothing between them.
There was something between them, of that she was sure. But neither of them would acknowledge it right now. Things were too tense, with a war raging around them, to pay much attention to romantic feelings. And so, they went to sleep in their separate bedrooms each night, never acknowledging that the growing tension in the air wasn’t entirely due to Saul’s evil army.
Weston had found his keys and opened the door, and Violet hobbled in after him. She collapsed on the couch, and, even though she didn’t allow any expression of pain to cross her face, Weston seemed to know that she was aching.
“Where does it hurt?” he asked.
“Everywhere,” Violet said, her voice coming out with a strange groaning sort of sound. She leaned her head back against the couch cushions and closed her eyes, willing the spinning sensation that had filled her to go away. She heard Weston bustling around in the kitchen, and a minute later, she felt her body shifting slightly as his weight depressed the couch cushion next to her. She opened one eye to peek, and saw him sitting beside her holding up a large glass of orange juice.
“Drink this,” he said. “It’ll make you feel better.”
Violet couldn’t keep from grinning. “Juice will help? What am I, a five year old? I was hoping for something more along the lines of some painkillers or something.”
Weston cracked a small smile, but pushed the glass of juice closer. “I’m serious,” he said. “You were flying around like crazy, heart pumping and adrenaline going through the roof. It wouldn’t hurt you to replenish your blood sugar a bit.”
Violet gave him a skeptical look, but took the juice from him anyway. “Since when are you a doctor?” she asked.
He ignored the question and asked one of his own. “Since when do you know how to do explosion spells?”
He kept his voice light, but there was a note of accusation in it. Violet sighed, and took a few moments to quickly drain the juice glass before answering him.
“It wasn’t me,” she said. “I don’t, in fact, know how to do an explosion spell. Not like the one those two wizards did. What you saw tonight, my friend, was a powerful display of dark magic.”
Weston looked confused. “They made themselves explode? Was it a spell gone wrong, then?”
“Oh no,” Violet said, shaking her head back and forth. “That spell went exactly as planned. Your confusion comes from the fact that you think it was an explosion spell. A better name for what you saw would be a self-destruction spell.”
There were a few beats of silence, and then a horrified look of understanding crossed Weston’s face. “They…they self-destructed? Like some sort of kamikaze pilot or something?”
Violet nodded wearily. “It’s a dark magic spell. Saul must have trained all his wizard soldiers on how to use it, and instructed them to make sure they were never taken alive. He doesn’t want to take a chance on us interrogating any of his soldiers and getting inside information, I suppose. Of course, when those two self-destructed it also destroyed any kind of intelligence devices they might have been carrying on them as well. Essentially, any clues they had as to why they were spying or what they were looking for were destroyed. That’s why I was so angry. We kept them from reporting back to Saul, sure. But we lost a chance to get some good intel as well.”
Weston furrowed his brow for a moment, considering. “I see your point. But don’t be too upset. The most important thing we had to do tonight was make sure those spies didn’t have a chance to report back to enemy headquarters, and we did that.”
Fury and the Dragon (Redwood Dragons Book 8) Page 1
