“Yeah, and I command you to stop hunting dragons,” Dirk said. “You know, because you owe us a life debt and such.”
The knight shook his head, moving to where the smaller knight was slumped against a tree.
“So the Wizard’s Tower seeks our demise—then you must not press farther into the mountains,” the dragon announced. “Many of my kin have taken refuge here, and they will likely attack you on sight. Take the path to Jiilk instead. From there you can turn north again to Kuste.”
Dwight nodded, but he didn’t look pleased about it.
“Now go, in Obsikar’s name,” the dragon said, turning around and disappearing into the cave. “I must ponder what took place this day—and how I can warn the others.”
“Help me,” the big knight suddenly called out, and the group ran over to where he was removing the helmet from the smaller knight’s head. Long locks of curly blond hair fell out, and a handsome youth blinked several times in the sunlight. “He may be injured.”
“We are victorious?” the blond knight asked as Sarah’s face came into focus. “And we rescued a beautiful maiden, too?” Sarah blushed, and Max decided quickly that this golden-haired knight was not somebody to be trusted.
“We saved you, if you really want to know,” Max said, sounding more defensive than he intended. The boy looked at the larger knight, who nodded, wearing a pained expression.
“I’m afraid it’s a long story, my lord,” the knight said. “I am Sir Maron,” he announced to the group, “and here before you is Prince Conall, heir to the Mor Luin crown. Check on the other knights and help me tend to his wounds.”
Sarah bent down to Conall. “Are you okay? What can I get for you?”
“I am well, thank you. And you have done enough already,” the prince said with a smile.
“I haven’t done anything at all,” Sarah answered, confused.
“Then why do I feel so much better?” the prince said with a laugh. Sarah smiled, blushing again.
Prince Conall, Max thought. He was exactly the kind of complication they didn’t need at the moment, and it had nothing to do with the way Sarah kept staring at the golden-haired noble. Nothing at all.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
REZORMOOR FLUFF DADDY
THE KRAKEN RAN BENEATH THE light of a crescent moon. Tucked under each arm was a muzzled and bound fluff dragon, their small legs wiggling in hopes of breaking free from the monster’s grip. He had found himself at the edge of a lake some days ago, and for the first time he paused to peer into the water and regard the face that looked back at him.
He was bigger than the average human, by at least half. He had long red hair that looked almost like lava in the moonlight, and beneath his skin ran rivers of red veins that crisscrossed like cracking ice. It seemed in many ways that a stranger was looking back at him, in part because the Kraken had other memories. And what he remembered most were those who had wronged him: Max Spencer, Sarah Jepson, and Dirk . . . well, just Dirk. He’d known them from somewhere—a school, it seemed. They’d embarrassed him in front of people who mattered, then disappeared without a trace. Everyone had blamed him. But now he wore the amulet: a black skull with three small horns and crimson eyes hanging from a silver chain around his neck. The moment he’d put the amulet on he’d stopped being Ricky Reynolds and become the Kraken. He rose and ran toward the city.
Some time later, Rezormoor heard the rapping at his window. He turned and was surprised to see the Kraken hanging there, one fluff dragon under his massive arm and another in his mouth. The sorcerer waved him in and the Kraken pulled his massive frame inside, breaking several panes of glass in the process. Rezormoor tried not to look too irritated about the glass.
“I fown wha ewe sempth meh fur,” the Kraken muttered, then pulled the fluff dragon from his mouth, spitting out a wad of fluff in the process. “I found what you sent me for.”
“Ah, excellent,” Rezormoor replied, walking over to the two fluff dragons.
“What’s this all about, then?” the first fluff dragon said, shaking himself off like a wet dog (he’d been the one in the Kraken’s mouth).
“Yeah, we’ve done nothing against the Tower,” the second fluff dragon chimed in.
“Don’t be afraid,” Rezormoor said, his voice oily and slick. “You are much safer here than anywhere else.”
Just then the zombie duck poked its head out from behind the sorcerer’s chair, and the fluff dragons took two involuntary steps backward.
“Uh, I’m not so sure about that,” the first one said, eyeing the duck warily.
“Yeah. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to go back to being a tetherball,” the second added. Rezormoor looked at the Kraken, who shrugged.
“I found them at a barbarian camp. That one was hanging from a pole.”
“You’ve served me well,” Rezormoor replied. “You’ve kept your part of the bargain.”
The Kraken wasn’t ready to trust the sorcerer fully, but his best chance of escaping the well probably lay with the Tower regent. And if not, he could always find some castle in the middle of nowhere, kill all the inhabitants, and take it over. Either way, the Kraken had options.
“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” the Kraken warned, stepping back through the window. “I don’t like it when people mess with me.” Then he disappeared.
“Wow, that guy’s got issues,” the first fluff dragon said, waiting long enough for the creature to be out of earshot.
“You know what a guy like that does reflects on your whole organization,” said the second fluff dragon. “Might want to keep that in mind.”
“Yes,” Rezormoor said, offering a forced smile. “In any case, consider yourselves guests of the Tower.”
“Guests as in we get a set of keys and food privileges?” the first fluff dragon asked. “Or guests as in if we try and leave you’ll squash us?”
“The latter, I’m afraid,” Rezormoor said. “But tell me, do you have any dealings with the Guild of Toupee Makers?”
The two fluff dragons looked at each other. “There are rumors that they have an interest in us.”
“Oh, more than an interest,” Rezormoor said, bending down and putting his hand on the fluff dragon’s head. His long hair moved forward, and suddenly the fluff dragon understood.
“Your hair,” the fluff dragon said. “That’s ours. . . . It comes from us!”
“Yes,” Rezormoor replied. “Somewhere the guild harvests your fluff, making the world’s most exquisite hairpieces. My fear, however, is that this is done, shall we say, rather harshly.”
The sorcerer stood, his black robes billowing around him as he turned, his hands clasped behind his back. “Part of the Tower’s obligation to the world is to protect all creatures of magic, and to keep balance. Dragons are such creatures—even in your current state. I am not about to forget your heritage. I think it best if the Tower were to step in and protect fluff dragons. And should you decide to sell your fluff to the guild, the Tower would ensure you are treated fairly.”
“We’ve heard stories of our brothers being captured and taken to the Dwarven cities,” the second fluff dragon offered.
Rezormoor considered this. “Given the natural enmity between dwarfs and dragons, I can see how they might look the other way. Yes, that does make sense.”
“Wouldn’t all this protecting of the fluff dragons and helping us with the Guild of Toupee Makers put the Tower in control of the fluff supply?” the first fluff dragon asked.
“You see, many forget that long before you were captured in your current form you were beings of great intelligence and wisdom,” Rezormoor replied.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” the fluff dragon said.
Rezormoor shrugged. “A mutually beneficial relationship. And in the meantime, as my guests, I would like to study you a bit further.”
The first fluff dragon sighed—maybe life in the Tower wouldn’t be as bad as living with the barbarians. At least they had sewers. “We underst
and,” he said. Rezormoor nodded and summoned two servants to take the dragons to his laboratory.
The sorcerer returned to his chair and considered the day’s events. Unlocking the secret of replicating the fluff dragons for the guild would give him tremendous leverage. Controlling the supply of fluff as well would make him wealthy. Money would allow him to fund an army, and with the Codex of Infinite Knowability, he could use the Prime Spells to achieve his ultimate goal: break free from the Maelshadow’s yoke and take control of the three realms. It was a dangerous game he was playing, but the pieces on the board were moving as he intended.
His thoughts turned to capturing the descendant of Maximilian Sporazo and securing the Codex of Infinite Knowability. Everything hinged on that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
KITTENS AND RAINBOWS
LOKI SAT AT A CORNER table at the Tavern of the Fish-Faced Human. He and Moki had been lapping up milk all afternoon, watching the entrance carefully. Loki had decided that it was worth a couple of days’ time to wait and see if a human boy walked through the door. It seemed to him that the Dwarven capital of Jiilk was the most natural stopping point for someone coming out of the woods above Shyr’el. And for any human entering the city, the first friendly establishment was the Tavern of the Fish-Faced Human. Many Dwarven taverns had a strictly “dwarf-only” policy. But the Fish-Faced Human catered to all kinds of nondwarfs as well.
At the same moment, Princess the Destroyer was galloping away from Issir, a medium-sized city located in the heart of Aaredt. Behind her Magar held tightly to the mane of a woefully undersized donkey that galloped as if its tail was on fire—which was a distinct possibility. Behind Princess and Magar, black smoke billowed into the air and the sounds of a battle rang out across the open plain. Princess lowered her head, sending a lightning bolt from her horn and igniting a farmer’s bale of hay as she passed. When the farmer began yelling, she did the same to him.
“Now, this is what I miss!” she shouted to Magar, who looked absolutely ridiculous in his flowing moon-and-stars robe while clutching the donkey’s neck for dear life.
They’d managed to make fairly good time riding the rainbro over the Wallan mountain range and across the open sea of grass that marked the Aaredt plain. With the Gossamer Gimbal in hand, Princess had done her best to lead the rainbro away from populated areas. The nasty dispositions of rainbros were not as well known in the southern kingdoms as they were in Turul. But the beast had a mind of its own, and when they came across Issir something had caught the rainbro’s attention. Unfortunately for the town, a bored guard watched as they approached and shouted, “Hey look, everyone, a rainbow!” By then the multicolored creature had had enough. Princess and Magar slid off the creature’s back as the rainbro turned to the city’s outer wall and smashed it.
With the rainbro on the attack, Princess realized there was only one thing to do: join in on the fun! She began firing bolts of lightning from her magical horn, blowing guard towers into bits, igniting rooftops, and sharp-shooting various crossbow-wielding guards from behind the battlements.
“Are you sure this is such a good idea?” Magar asked, watching the rainbro kick a cow over the horizon.
“I’ve passed through two whole kingdoms without so much as lighting a single frobbit on fire,” Princess protested as she zapped another guard from off of the wall.
“Issir has a Tower here,” Magar said. “The wizards will be assembling.”
“Do you really think I’m afraid of a few wizards?” Princess laughed.
“No, I don’t,” Magar said as a crossbow bolt flew over his head. “But if they recognize us, they’ll be able to get the word out. We need to pass unnoticed if we expect to find Max Spencer.”
Princess blew up a trebuchet and then sighed. Magar was always spoiling her fun. “Very well, it’s always work with you, isn’t it?”
After putting some distance between themselves and the city, Princess and Magar came to a stop and turned to survey the damage behind them. Rays of blue light were shooting from the walls and driving the rainbro back. “The wizards have joined the fray,” Magar said.
Princess shifted into her human form and withdrew the Gossamer Gimbal from the folds of her dress. She watched as the three interlocking rings began to spin, taking note of the direction the floating arrow was pointing.
“Sporazo’s heir seems to be moving to the east,” Princess announced.
Magar considered their relative location. “Hammer’s Hilt Bridge is to the east,” he said after a moment. “Then the dwarf capital.”
“We’re closing in on him, Magar,” she announced, putting the Gimbal away. She wasn’t about to forget the promise made to her by Rezormoor Dreadbringer: an all-you-can-eat human buffet in a place called Texas. She longed for something to devour that wasn’t tainted with magic, and the well-marbled Texans sounded delicious.
“I think I’ll walk awhile in my human form,” Princess said, already forgetting the chaos behind her.
“A prudent move, Your Highness,” Magar confirmed as he sent the frightened donkey on its way. “Two travelers fleeing the city will hardly be worth noting. But a unicorn will certainly draw attention.”
They turned from the burning city as the rainbro toppled over, walking in silence as Magar considered his situation. While it was true he was trapped into serving Princess as part of a Tower contract, he secretly hoped that Max Spencer might be able to give the unicorn a little payback. But that was a thought he kept buried in the deepest part of his mind.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PRINCE OBNOXIOUS
THE FUNERAL PYRE BURNED IN the distance.
“Those knights brought honor to their families,” Conall announced to the group after several miles of quiet reflection.
“The lance,” Max said after a time, the image vivid in his mind. “It was magic, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Conall answered. “Dragons are magical creatures, so our high mage strengthens the lance’s barb to help even the odds. But even the most enchanted weapon fails to pierce the dragon’s chest.”
“Because you strike the serpent’s escutcheon,” Puff announced. “It’s impervious to magic and steel, no matter how many knights try to prove otherwise.”
“Even so, in making the attempt they did their duty,” Conall said. “For their service their families will be given stipends from the crown and have their names added to the great book of Mor Luin heroes.”
“Heroes . . . I totally get that,” Dirk said. “That’s what we’re all about.”
“A hero is defined by what he or she does,” Conall continued. “And more often than not that comes at the expense of the self. It’s not an easy thing to obtain.”
“Dude, we’ve already saved the world once,” Dirk replied. “And when we defeat Rezormoor Dreadbringer we’ll do it again.”
“Dread . . . ,” Max started to correct before realizing Dirk got it right. “Oh.”
“The Tower’s regent?” Sir Maron grunted. “Pay them no heed, my lord. These are fools on a fool’s errand.”
“You’ll have to excuse Sir Maron,” Conall said. “Like a sword, he sometimes cuts by mistake. But I have to say, this does not sound like a wise quest. The Tower exists peacefully with the Seven Kingdoms. They are practically everywhere . . . and they serve each king honorably. No kingdom is without a high mage, sent from the Tower to serve at the king’s pleasure.”
“Sorry, but we know the truth,” Dirk countered. “It’s Rezormoor who’s behind killing the dragons. Not only that, he’s been hunting Max here.”
Conall looked down at Max with a critical eye. “And what makes you so interesting to the regent of the Wizard’s Tower?”
Max never liked talking about himself, and he was pretty sure that he didn’t want to start letting the world know who he was or what he was carrying. But when he caught glimpses of Sarah and saw the way she kept looking at Conall, it irritated him. Conall was just like every other jock in middle school who had m
ade his life so miserable. On any other day Max would have shrugged and turned the conversation a different direction, but not today.
“Well, if you really want to know, I’m the last living descendant of Maximilian Sporazo, and that makes me the only person in the world who can cast spells from the Codex of Infinite Knowability—maybe you’ve heard of it? It’s only the most powerful magic book ever written. And so the reason this Rezormoor wants me is because I can do stuff he can’t. In fact, I can do things nobody can.”
“As I said,” Sir Maron grunted from his horse, “fools.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Sarah said from her pony. “Every word.”
Conall regarded Sarah for a moment. “Then I believe every word. And you will not say otherwise, Sir Maron.”
“As you wish, my lord,” Sir Maron replied with as much enthusiasm as if he’d been ordered to muck out stables.
“How do you know the Tower is behind this?” Conall continued.
“The king of the dragons told us,” Dirk replied.
Conall considered this for a moment. “What if this dragon king is using you?”
“A fair point,” Dwight added. “None of us really knows what’s going on here. We don’t know if Obsikar was telling the truth.”
“If you kill the dragons, you will plunge this world into an age of ice,” Puff added from his spot on the wagon. “That should be enough.”
“Stories we were told as babes,” Sir Maron announced. “Dragon fire warming the world is nonsense.”
Conall turned to Sarah. She shrugged. “That part I don’t know. But Puff has no reason to lie to us.”
“A charitable outlook,” Conall said, flashing Sarah his perfect smile. Just then the wind picked up, tossing his blond hair over his shoulder. Max cursed the wind and its horrible timing.
“But Puff is a dragon, after all. And he does, in fact, have every reason,” Conall said, turning to Puff. “Not that I’m accusing you, just making an academic point.” Puff frowned but continued to listen.
Fluff Dragon Page 9
