Dragon Mage (The First Dragon Rider Book 3)

by Ava Richardson

  I cleared my throat, thinking quickly. “The prince is welcome to the Dragon Academy, sir,” I called down. “But we forbid any armed men or women to enter our walls.”

  “We do?” Char said through gritted teeth, before nodding. “It’s a good rule, so I guess that we do.”

  The red-bearded knight made a scoffing laugh. “You are young, Lord Torvald, and maybe you don’t realize that these knights are sworn to defend their prince with their life. The prince cannot travel without arms, anytime, anywhere!”

  Once again, all eyes turned to me to see what I would say in return.

  “You can’t let those knights in here!” Lett whispered to me. “Fully armored, battle-hardened knights against dawdling monks and children? They could have you all rounded up and in chains in a moment!”

  “He’s right,” Char said from above me. “This could be a ploy. A trick to capture the dragons!”

  “Do you dare defy us, Lord Torvald?” the red-bearded knight bellowed.

  Why does he keep calling me Lord Torvald? I thought distractedly, biting my lip. Beside me Paxala scraped her claws against the stone, and I could sense her agitation. Then my answer came to me.

  “Char? Take flight with Paxala! Show them her might and speed!” I said.

  “What? Won’t that provoke them?” Char said, although Paxala, able to understand what I had asked, was chirruping excitedly. I waved a hand to Dorf, making the pulling gesture that I wanted him to wave the flags as I called down to the prince’s man below.

  “But why should the prince need any more protection than what we can already provide?” I shouted, feeling a fierce joy running through my words. “Who would dare to counter the will of the dragons?”

  “Skreayaaar!” At that moment, Paxala launched into the air directly over the prince and his forces, rippling out her wings in a sudden snap like the clap of thunder. The battle-hardened and oath-sworn knights quailed, and several broke ranks as they must have thought a Crimson Red dragon was about to fall upon them all – but Paxala and Char had already caught the wind, and were swooping low over the causeway, as fast as a speeding falcon.

  “Krech! Vreyar!” At her loosing, Dorf waved the blue and the green flags to signal to Terence and Lila on their Blue Morax and Sigrid on her Green Socolia that they could fly—and fly they did. With excited screeches, they leapt into the air, the Sinuous Blue Morax whirling and snapping ahead, faster even than Paxala, and with the stocky Vicious Green Socolia pounding her wings to elevate her large body in wider and wider circles over the monastery.

  I swiveled a finger in the air, and watched as Dorf copied my movements, swirling the green flag in a tight circle, and sweeping the blue flag in a wider one. He didn’t have a red flag especially for Paxala the Crimson Red, but I trusted that Char and Paxala would still fly to best effect.

  “I didn’t know you could guide them that well…” Lett said, looking visibly taken aback by what he was watching.

  Neither did I, I thought, just giving a tight smile in return. I can only pray to the stars that we can keep this show up long enough to impress the prince before the dragons get bored!

  There were muttered arguments and wild gesticulations from below, as the elite knights rallied and collapsed into a mounted circle around the prince and the carriage.

  “Come on, give in…” I whispered down to them, before order was restored to their ranks by the red-bearded general.

  “It’s clear they don’t mean us harm or else they would have cooked you all by now!” he shouted, and the prince raised one black-gloved, slender hand. At that, his general and his knights fell silent as the prince himself raised his voice to us.

  “You do yourself credit, little Lord Torvald, and fine, mighty beasts that you have here. I would be honored to enter your Academy of Dragons, as I have much to discuss with you. It is clear that I will not need my knights inside your walls, and that you can keep my personage perfectly safe. But I have to insist that my general Sir Rathon, and my servants will accompany me,” he said, pausing to look over his shoulder at the large, dark sea that was his army below. “Who would dare attack us, indeed, with my army below?”

  “It’s a threat,” Uncle Lett muttered beside me.

  “I know,” I nodded. It was clear that if any harm came to the prince or any of his retinue then the massed armies of the Middle Kingdom would ride upon the academy with everything they had. “But it’s as good as we can get.”

  “Neill…” uncle said warningly, “I fear that this will not be a good idea, not for you, or for this place…”

  I felt a flash of annoyance at my uncle then. As much as I loved him, and as much as I wanted to leave this place and be free as he was, on the airs and roads of the wide world out there – could he not see that I was trying to do the best that I could? “Uncle, please,” I implored, as I waved to Dorf to guide the dragons in and open the gates below.

  Uncle Lett looked at me, aghast. In his hands, he even held his small, curved knife that I knew would be wickedly sharp. “I swore an oath, Neill… An oath to avenge the wrong that had been done to my family, through you. You cannot sit down and share a table with this man.”

  “Uncle, please, I must,” I said once more, watching as the prince made his final preparations, dismissing his knights and stepping back into the carriage. “I have to, for the good of these people here.” I nodded around the walls at the weary, worried, and clearly scared students and monks.

  “You are a rover, one of the Shaar, you do not belong here, in these walls!” Lett said, brandishing the knife at the carriage below.

  “No, uncle! I cannot allow you to take your vengeance now. Not with so much at stake,” I said, even though it broke my heart to deny him.

  “I cannot stay here with that man. He is cruel, and you will regret allowing him to enter, my nephew,” Lett said, “Come, come with me now, leave this place which forces you to break bread with those who have no honor!”

  “Uncle…” I said in anguish. Even now, Lett was turning and walking back down the stone steps, and the prince’s carriage horses were slowly trotting toward the open gate. I had never seen such a stark and clear choice offered in all of my life. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just leave right now, and jeopardize the fates of all of these young and old people here in the academy, people that I had asked to overthrow the old Abbot.

  “I can’t come with you now, but after. After this place is safe…” I offered, but Lett was already at the bottom of the walls and signaling to Daros and Sami to start up their caravans.

  “I will wait for you along the southern roads!” My uncle called out the traditional Gypsy blessing, “And may fair winds guide your journey!”

  No, uncle, don’t say that to me. I felt heartbroken, watching as my uncle pointedly mounted his pony, making the carriage of the prince pause and wait at the front gates as he and his family slowly wheeled around the courtyard, and headed west, towards the ruined walls where I knew they would find a way through, and out to the mountain trails beyond. I just hoped with all of my heart that he would forgive me when I really did have an opportunity to follow him.

  But for now, as the black carriage clattered into the space vacated by my uncle’s family, I knew that I had serious work to do. I had to entertain a prince.

  Chapter 15

  Neill, the Offer

  “Prince Vincent,” I said, standing before the ornate, black-painted carriage. At my side stood a handful of the neatest-looking monks and students I could grab on my hurried steps down to the ground, as my closest confidants Char, Dorf and Sigrid were all occupied with the dragons.

  “Lord Torvald,” Vincent said, standing once more on the top step of the carriage as Sir Rathon, the red-bearded general, wheeled his horse to one side of us. The general’s gauntleted hand resting on the pommel of his great-sword, and I didn’t doubt for an instant that he wouldn’t hesitate to use it if I made any move against the Dark Prince.

  The prince himself was l
ooking at me with narrowed eyes, but also a small, secretive half-smile on his face.

  What is your game? I was suspicious, but forced a bland smile on my face (although I was sure that he could see through it). He had sharp features, much sharper and finer than Prince Lander did, but there was something in his bearing that reminded me of the Northern Prince, and even of Char herself, I had to admit. A defiant streak that could stare anyone down, should he need to.

  When he spoke, though, it wasn’t the brusque and candid tones that I was expecting, but instead that of a charming courtier.

  “Thank you for inviting me into your halls, Lord Torvald. I see that there have been many changes in the monastery, but also that you are running a tight ship!”

  I am? I thought.

  “Thank you, Prince Vincent, we are trying out best…” I said, wondering what etiquette that I was to observe. There was clearly something that either I was or wasn’t doing that was sending General Rathon on the verge of boiling point, as he glared at me with fury, and his cheeks had flushed a tight, taut, red.

  “Well, your best is already better than the many decades that the old fool Ansall was in charge!” The prince laughed and clapped his hand. His casual disregard for the old Abbot shocked me, I had to admit. I had thought them friends. But maybe they had just been allies instead. I remembered the advice of my father—that allies were not the same as sworn friends, as a friend you had to stand by with, through summertime and the winter, through hard times and the good; but with an ally you had to judge your every dealing.

  But even so, I silently grumbled. That ‘ally’ of the prince had poisoned my father, and Prince Vincent has seemingly done nothing.

  The Dark Prince gestured to the skies above us, where three dragons where now wheeling in to land. “The old Abbot never even managed to get one dragon off the ground in all the time that I have been coming here, and yet you already have three, in what, three months? Two seasons, is it?” The prince stepped down from the carriage, and with one gloved hand waved aside the general’s warning growl as he crossed the distance to me, extending a forearm. He appeared casual, relaxed, as if we had been old friends and he was here to congratulate me on me achievements already.

  “I, uh…” I felt completely discombobulated by the taller and older man’s friendliness, finding it disturbingly natural to grasp his forearm to mine in a traditional warrior’s grasp.

  What is going on here? Why is he treating me like this? Does he not remember forcing me to be punished? I watched the older man carefully.

  “Oh, don’t be shy now, Torvald – you have done fantastically well here. Overthrowing the old Abbot? Getting rid of that monster Zaxx? I never liked that dragon, you know – it always seemed a bit creepy to me to be honest, the way that Abbot encouraged his acolytes to worship the bull, and all the while, the dragon was perfectly beastly to his own broods!”

  I nodded. It was, after all, true. The golden bull had been a monster, and was, in fact, still a monster.

  “We’re uh, we’re trying to do things differently now,” I said, finding it awkward to remain standoffish and removed from him when he was acting so friendly. Remember what he did to you on the mountain, I told myself, straightening up a bit. It was this man’s idea for me to freeze to death. Remember what Uncle Lett said.

  “Yes, I can see… And I, for one, fully support it.” Vincent beamed at me. “So, Master Torvald, before I tell you the business that brings me here, I simply must ask you one question,”

  I gritted my teeth, wondering what it could be.

  “What was it like riding a dragon for the first time, a creature so vast, so powerful, and so quick?” Vincent shocked me by asking. He smiled at me as he said so, appearing to be interested in the answer.

  “Well, I had only ridden ponies before, your highness,” I spluttered, caught off-guard as I remembered the moment that Paxala had stretched her leg and shoulder to me and clearly encouraged me to climb high onto her neck. “Uh, it was…incredible,” I ended lamely.

  “I am sure it was, Lord Torvald.” The prince looked up to the dragons above us, bearing their own student riders as if they had been trained all of their life to do it. “I, too, have only ridden horses before. Stallions, of course, the best that the Royal Stables can provide – but how I have longed to ride a dragon, as soon as I heard of your great achievement! What fire and spirit they must have!”

  It was hard to remain stoical before the man’s enthusiasm. Does he really like dragons too? I found myself thinking. How can he not? I argued with myself, before coughing self-consciously.

  “Thank you, your highness. Yes, they are marvelous creatures.”

  “They are.” The prince nodded, before his smile faded a little and his eyes grew cold, though he had not moved a muscle.

  Here it comes, I thought.

  “Actually, that is one of the very reasons why I wanted to visit with you,” he said in a slightly lower tone, half turning so that we faced the Great Hall, with the clearly visible remains of the wall on the far side. “You are going to have a lot of enemies at your door, Lord Torvald. As much as the old Draconis Order were, and I’m putting this nicely—as I’m sure one of your birth knows— unpopular amongst the common folk, the Draconis Order had great support from the nobles and the clan chiefs. The Abbot Ansall was very good at negotiating power, and securing protection for himself,” the prince said darkly. “The noble families of the Middle Kingdom might not look too kindly on the fact that Ansall was ousted.”

  “Is that so?” I nodded, a reaction which only infuriated the General Rathon all the more. Are you about to threaten me, Prince Vincent? I thought.

  “It is so, I am afraid to say.” Vincent sighed. “Which is why I have come here to try and help you re-tie those bonds of friendship, as the throne of the Middle Kingdom and Mount Hammal have always stood side by side.”

  Yeah, no matter who is in charge of the monastery? I wondered skeptically. If the throne of the Middle Kingdom thought so highly of what we were doing here, and of me—Lord Torvald as he insists on calling me— then why come here with most of his armies to encamp at the foot of the mountain? Why not just send a messenger, seeking an audience? In the next breath, he told me just why.

  “I have news, Lord Torvald. News that I think Mount Hammal and your people – and dragons – here will definitely want to hear,” the Dark Prince said.

  “Oh yes?” I said, catching some of the prince’s attitude of dire urgency and secrecy as his eyes searched mine out.

  The Dark Prince licked his lips, and then quickly stated, “It is Zaxx, and the old Abbot. I have word of them.”

  With a sudden screech and a rush of wind, a shadow fell over us as wings as large as sails snapped above the courtyard. It was Paxala, screaming to a halt as the large talons of her back feet gouged into the ground and she sat on her haunches, her great arms and leathery wings still outraised in front of the prince, his general, and the carriage. Anyone could see that she was clearly threatening him, and clearly territorial. On her back sat Char, not making a move to either calm or dissuade the Crimson Red.

  “Char!” I said, waving my arms in front of my friend and the Crimson Red, hoping to try and calm them down. “The prince has been telling me that he brings us important news…” I said steadily, catching Char’s eye as I said so. I’m not sure if we can trust him. I don’t want to trust him, I tried to say with that look, although whether Char or the dragon could read my intentions it was impossible to say.

  “It had better be very important,” Char’s defiant voice rang out, as Paxala’s chest puffed out like bellows, preparing fire, I knew. “Because the last time that I checked, there was an entire army, maybe a couple of armies parked outside of our walls!”

  She was right, of course. The prince owed her an explanation, as Char had done just as much to make this place as I had, probably more. But could we afford to challenge the prince, like this, and right now with his army sitting below us? I was worried
. My father had always lectured long about caution over political and military matters. That it was usually better to take no action than it was to force one. Choose your battles, I had often overheard him say to his captains. Choose when to fight them. But I also knew that the Dark Prince owed the dragons an explanation, as well. This has always been their home, after all. The Dark Prince has come here with an army, and after having thoroughly supported the cruel Abbot in whatever he wanted to do, and perform whatever crazy experiments with both us students and the dragons… I felt caught between the advice of my father on one hand, and the honor of my friends, the dragons. on the other. Another reason why I don’t want to be a leader! I thought. I didn’t want to choose between them, but knew that I must.

  Standing before mighty Paxala and seeing the hurt in Char’s eyes, I chose my friends. I looked at the Dark Prince at my side, my face impassive. What happened next shocked me.

  “Great Dragon!” The prince said, striding forward to stand beside me, before the front claws of the enraged Crimson Red. He knelt down on one knee and lowered his head, almost to the ground in a deep bow that was almost worthy of a monarch, before raising his gaze once again to speak, but remaining on one knee before Paxala.

  “Most fierce Lady Red,” I watched him call up to her. “I watched your flight with nothing but awe. How fast are your wings! How great your claws! What strength you have!” Paxala cocked her head to one side, unused to such flattery from anyone save Char or me.

  “How could I mean you any harm, great Lady Red? How beautiful are your scales that flash in the sun! Instead, I come to offer my support and friendship to your cause, and to your own people.” The Dark Prince nodded in the direction of the dragon crater. “It is true, that the old Abbot Ansall was a terrible man, and that what he did to you, to your young hatchlings and the newts, was nothing short of an atrocity – but no more!” the Dark Prince avowed. “No more will dragonkind ever have to fear humans…”