Dragon Redeemer (World of Aluvia Book 3)

by Amy Bearce

  Rocky boulders littered the steep land rising and falling as their group inched higher into the mountains. Dark clouds gathered in the sky. Please don’t let it storm again, thought Nell. She kept plodding forward, leaning into the increasing wind, eyes on the ground, and as she marched, her thoughts turned into a downward spiral.

  Why couldn’t everyone move faster? Did they want her and everyone else to die? Of course not, she reminded herself quickly, but there was a new edge of despair to her monologue, built of doubts placed there by the Dragon’s poison, she supposed. He was toxic, not just his magic. He deserved to die a hundred painful deaths.

  Somewhere behind the thick clouds, the sun sank along with her mood, but she wasn’t ready to stop moving yet. If she stopped moving, she might cry at the impossibility of it all, and this was no time for tears. Tears solved nothing.

  When another dark shadow crossed the ground at her feet, she scowled. More clouds, darker this time. Great. Another blizzard, even. But something in the line of the shadow did not suggest a cloud. She stopped, startled, and glanced up at the exact moment a white-feathered griffin burst through the low clouds, claws extended, shrieking and heading right at Nell.

  “Watch out!” Phoebe shouted.

  Everyone darted behind the giant stones jutting up around them. Crouching, Nell fumbled for her bow, keeping her eyes on the giant beast. With hindquarters of a lion and the body and head of an eagle, griffins were beautiful, powerful, and rare. They were also not native to the frozen lands.

  Nell stepped out from behind the rock. Her bow was in her hand, her arrow nocked.

  “Get down!” Corbin cried from his hiding spot. “Griffins are too powerful to die without a perfect heart shot.”

  Eyes as white as its feathers glared down at her, and Nell gasped. Something about the raptor reminded her of the faces in the wind, white and dead-eyed.

  “I think it’s one of his,” she shouted.

  “No, it’s like the wolf―just leave it alone!” he urged.

  “But griffins don’t live down here in the cold!” Still, she hesitated. He’d been right before.

  She knew something of griffins, one of the few creatures she’d paid attention to when Corbin lectured. They were considered noble creatures. She had griffin-feather arrows that had cost her a pretty penny, but none flew straighter or faster.

  She touched the dark-brown fletching of her arrow and looked again at the mantling griffin above. No, the white eyes and feathers of this one weren’t right. Weren’t natural. If their enemy could drain dragons, he could do the same to griffins. They were magical beasts, too.

  The raptor gave a hoarse battle cry and dove, right at Nell.

  She held the string lightly, waiting for the giant bird to come in close enough for a hit. Three… two…

  Corbin pushed her out of the way, landing on her with an oomph, fairies squealing in distress. The griffin soared high, back into the clouds.

  “Corbin!”

  She pushed her beloved off, ready to punch him in the face. Like old times.

  The others peered from behind rocks. No doubt the beast would be back. Soon.

  “What. Were. You. Thinking?” Nell squeezed her hand into a fist. The scar along her palm stung. The bitter cold spot in her flared and she shivered, fighting down the urge to scream.

  “Don’t try to kill it, Nell! It’s not the only way―it’s not. It’s not like you to shoot an animal like this without thinking twice; it’s something the crews would do. We aren’t like that. Micah can calm it like he did the wolf, right?”

  Micah shook his head. “It’s under some other magic’s power, Corbin. I can see it― something like a tie to it, the same one as in the storm. Besides, the griffin would not listen to a faun. Just as mature dragons do not listen to us, griffins are just as proud.”

  Sierra said, “This time, Nell’s right. I’m sorry, Corbin.”

  High in the sky, the griffin dipped back below the clouds to the left. It shrieked in defiance, then tilted dangerously on its wing and plummeted back toward Nell.

  “Don’t do it! If you miss the heart, it’ll kill you,” Corbin said.

  Nell took a deep breath, and raised her bow but couldn’t stop the question: What if Corbin was right this time, too? If she had killed that mother wolf, it would’ve been a win on the Dragon’s part, to make her more like him, too quick to kill.

  “Please,” Corbin said into her ear from behind. “Trust me.”

  The temptation to lower the bow tugged on her. She couldn’t decide. Couldn’t put down the bow, couldn’t release the arrow. For the first time in her life, Nell was in a battle and didn’t know what to do next.

  The giant bird dropped like a rock out of the sky, and there was no more time. It collided with her, its feet balled up like fists, and everything went black.

  he awoke curled up in a tiny space. The smell of honey mixed with the putrid scent of rotting flash made her gag. She sat up, hands over her mouth and nose, and blinked hard.

  Bars surrounded her. She was in a cage, inside of a large stone room with other cages holding different animals. Noxious fumes filled the space, and white mist floated along the low ceiling. The room reminded her vividly of Flight distilleries, no doubt set up that way for similar purposes. A smaller stand near the door held vials and bowls already full of fluid, some of them smoking. And a man stood with his back to her at a table, a dragon mask sitting beside his project.

  The Dragon.

  The griffin must have carried her to him, in a lair somewhere in the mountains.

  Corbin had been wrong this time. So, so wrong. But instead of fury or self-righteous indignation, all Nell felt was heartbreak. What had happened to her friends? To Corbin?

  The Dragon stood with his back to her, clearly unconcerned with her as a threat. The tinkling of a spoon against glass resulting in a new whiff of mist rising from the table. She didn’t watch the mist, though: she watched the man, noting his broad shoulders, the thick arms, remembering his ferocious strikes. Who was this man who’d defeated her repeatedly? She was his captive now.

  Flashes of the beating she’d taken sent a thrill of terror rocketing through her. The icy place in her chest spasmed, and she hid a gasp, clenching her fist on the scar he’d given her. She didn’t want to draw his notice, not yet. She still wore her winter gear, as if she’d been dumped unceremoniously in the cage. Silently peeling off her gloves and tucking them away, she wiped sweat from her forehead and focused on memorizing her surroundings.

  The cages in the room were coated in glowing, viscous nectar. She knew the liquid on sight, could smell its sweetness. Nectar, altered in some horrible way the way Flight used to be. He’d gotten fairy nectar somewhere.

  Rage filled her. Like her, the magical creatures were trapped not just by bars, but by the Dragon’s twisted magic.

  Nell couldn’t tell how many different kinds of creatures filled the cages of brass and silver, but a quick survey told her they were all flying magical creatures. The white feathered birds were firebirds deprived of their fire and their red plumage. A huge cage near the back held what seemed to be a sleeping griffin, perhaps the very one that had attacked her. She hoped the giant raptor was only sleeping, not dead. Even though she’d been right about it being sent to attack them, she was glad now that she hadn’t killed it. It was a victim, too. She and Corbin had both been right.

  The cage closest to her held something Nell had never seen, though. The creature was barely visible at all, merely a sheer outline of white with the rest of it lightly shimmering and transparent like the ghosts of old wives’ tales. Its barely visible skin seemed smooth and sleek, and its rounded head had tiny pointed ears and a short cute nose.

  A snow sprite, she thought, recalling Micah’s description of them. His measured and academic explanation seemed a century ago. Snow sprites hadn’t been seen in generations―and the Dragon had trapped not just one, but many, she realized with growing horror.

  There wer
e at least two dozen of them in the cages farthest from the door. They jostled and squealed at each other, but the sounds reminded her of upset children, not dangerous creatures. Snow sprites were supposed to be pranksters, but this creature in the cage near the Dragon wasn’t laughing. It was huddled in the center, carefully not touching the bars, whimpering in fear.

  What was the Dragon doing?

  She could only watch, powerless, as he turned to the cage, reached through the faintly glowing bars, and poured a black sticky potion over the quivering sprite, a liquid as black as the one that had poisoned Nell. Immediately, the sprite’s body smoked, and the poor creature screamed. The smell of blood and dragons flooded the room, followed by the ripe stink of rotting flesh.

  The snow sprite bent in on itself, slumping, its shoulder blades growing sharper. Its face thinned, and fangs grew from its mouth. Its ice-blue eyes emptied to white, and a red mist tinged with silver flowed from its shriveled skin, floating over to the Dragon like a cloud. The red mist slowly faded into him like blood soaked up by a cloth. Taking a deep breath, he glowed with a smoldering red light right before the magic disappeared.

  Nell choked back a cry of disgust and horror. The faces in the storm―this was what they had been. She might not know much about magic, but she knew enough to understand he had just changed the innocent nature of the poor sprite to darkness, just as he turned the dragons, and tried to turn her. Not only could the creatures attack with the weather, they could appear anywhere the wind could go, spy on anyone. An army of those combined with his army of dragons would be unstoppable.

  How could one sword do anything against this?

  The smell grew worse, and the change was complete, leaving a ravaged-looking creature where the adorable snow sprite had been. It was definitely the things she’d seen during the storm. Nell gagged, burrowing her face into her sleeve. She couldn’t help it.

  The Dragon spoke without turning around. “Well, it looks like it’s time to introduce myself officially, Nellwyn, since you haven’t been able to guess who I am.”

  He turned, face exposed to her for the first time. The man’s dark eyes shone with black magic, and a white scar outlined in angry red ran along one cheek, under one eye, down to the jaw, and part-way down his neck. She gasped, but not from the scarred face and neck. She did know him. He’d trained her.

  Shane McConnel, the sword master from Port Iona. The man she’d respected so much. The one who supposedly died shortly after she left his training five years ago.

  “Ah, so you do remember me,” he said. “I’m flattered.”

  He’d been impossible to forget: a prodigy with amazing skills, the kind of sword master she’d only hoped to be. When Jack told her they killed Shane, she’d secretly grieved the loss of a fine swordsman, a good man, despite his work with the crew. She’d been in the crew then, too, after all.

  Confusion beat against her mind.

  “But what happened to you? You barely finished my training before you took off to the south on some assignment, and then Jack told me he killed you. Is he the one who―” she gestured along her cheek and jaw.

  “As if that cowardly assassin could ever lay a knife on me.” Shane glared, but then his expression cleared and that was somehow even worse. “No, he didn’t give me this scar. My dragon did, with a bite that nearly ended me.”

  “But if the dragon tried to kill you―”

  “Tried and failed, though he succeeded at making me what I am now. After that, magic grew in me, calling me further south, to here, just as my magic will draw you ever stronger to me as time goes on, like a compass needle pulling you true north. It knows its master. Other traces of magic may be on you, puny magic of the earth and sea, but they can’t stop mine. It’s almost completed its work in you, Nellywn. Tell me, what do you think of my realized dream?” He gestured at the creatures in the room.

  “I’d call this more of a nightmare.” Nell reached automatically for her sword and stilled when her hand brushed her hilt. He hadn’t disarmed her? How arrogant was he? And where had he taken her? Where was the here he had found?

  Shane gave a low laugh and unlocked the door to her cage. “You think you can defeat me, knowing who I am? Here, in my stronghold? Come on out. We both know the only smart move now is to join me.”

  The Shane she had known would never have acted like this, but Bentwood and Jasper would have. She knew just how to handle men whose egos outweighed their wisdom. She dropped her arms and hung her head. “You’re right. I couldn’t beat you years ago.”

  She stepped out of her jail cell. He waited, watching, and she didn’t reach for her sword, not yet. Instead, she spoke softly. “Knowing who you are changes everything. Let’s talk about what you really want from me, Shane.”

  He closed the space between them and reached out suddenly, holding a thin knife. “Stop pretending to be meek; I’m not a fool like your old bosses. If I have to force you to cooperate, so be it.”

  She grabbed for her sword, and even managed to pull it from her sheath, but he knocked her hand aside.

  With one quick motion, Shane grabbed her free hand and sliced along her left palm along the scar. She screamed, pain racing up her arm, worse than the first cut in Port Iona. She heard the sharp clatter of a weapon hitting the floor. Her sword.

  Black ooze dripped from her hand. It had burned before. Now her arm felt full of boiling oil. Her heart lurched, pulsing against a tightening net of rage and evil.

  “My friends will stop you even if I die here,” she gasped, putting all her strength toward not falling on the floor. Not in front of him.

  “I know who came with you on this pathetic journey, and I’m not worried. My snow sprites have been reporting to me for some time now.” He smiled over at the horrifying creature with a look suggesting affection.

  Nell gagged.

  He snapped his gaze back to her. “But perhaps Corbin Lannon in particular needs a lesson on how to treat his soon-to-be-king and savior. I’ll slice him the same way I’ve done you.”

  “This isn’t about him. Or you. It’s about what’s right.” Breathe. Breathe. She had to get out of here. She started inching toward the open doorway. Her sword could stay.

  “Ah. A righteous warrior. Tell me, Nellwyn, is it right that humans perish at the whims of dragons? Is it right the fairy keepers withhold their fairies’ nectar? I can use their nectar to create a shield for humans to protect them from many magical beasts. My elixir even gives me the power to take their magic. Can you imagine how much better off we’d be if humans regained their rightful place as rulers of our world?”

  Anger broke, mixing with the painful pulsing of her heart. “You’ve warped the sprites’ magic into something unnatural, just like you’ve become twisted with evil. You’ll destroy Aluvia with this madness!”

  He lifted a finger to hush her and sauntered to the table. Reaching one hand out, he tapped the mask hard once. The thud echoed in the room. The griffin stirred in its sleep.

  Licking her lips, Nell mentally counted the number of steps it would take to get out and slam the door on him. Five.

  “Be careful, my little queen. The changed sprites and their storms are nothing compared to what else I’ve conquered. This whole building was built by people who hoarded Aluvia’s magic, but now I am the one who lives here. They exist no longer, and I am the one who will deliver the future to Aluvia’s people.”

  Not hoarded; conserved. And we are with you still… The voice was almost impossible to hear, but Nell recognized it with a thrill.

  “You’ve already shown us your dragons,” she snapped, drawing courage from the smuggled message of the guardians.

  This was an ancient temple held by the women in the red cloaks. Perhaps the place on the map had been intended as a sanctuary, maybe. But it didn’t matter now. Now it was a prison.

  Five easy steps. If only she wasn’t so winded. So hurt. The ground beckoned. Her blood burned.

  “And all but one of them have been molde
d to my hands through my own special elixir. All but the first. He and I have a special relationship, you might say.” He gestured to the scar visible along his neck.

  “We can stop your dragons with the sword of Aluvia. We will.” They had to.

  “Does the lie comfort you? My three dragons took a city in hours. We’ve taken two more ports since then. Now imagine scores of dragons. Port Ostara is next on my list to conquer.”

  She could visualize it too clearly. Her breath left in a rush.

  “You can’t win,” Shane said softly, weapon no longer in hand. He didn’t need one. The truth had sliced Nell open to the bone.

  Those dragons would sweep over Aluvia. The twisted snow sprites would terrorize people. If the ports didn’t crown him willingly as their king, he’d just take their cities by force, as he took Port Iona hardly breaking a sweat. Port Ostara would fall next. The smaller fishing villages wouldn’t stand a chance.

  He nodded. “Yes, you see now. I always could defeat you because I can read your face. I know you. Your Corbin will never embrace the warrior you truly are. He’ll always hold you back. But I formed you into the swordswoman you are, and, like a sword, I can re-forge you, replace your magic with a new, stronger power. Just like these dragons, I can make you more powerful than you’ve ever been.”

  He held out his gloved hand. She could remember him as he’d been, a worthy teacher, even a respected friend.

  For a single moment, her mind produced a new image, one in which she was powerful, respected, loved. No one asked her to lead. Shane led the war, but she could fight the battles.

  Grim satisfaction sprang up at the mental picture. No one judged her for being strong. No one worried for her. Shane celebrated her skills without care for her gender. She could do what she enjoyed without thinking about leadership and dependents. Master as many weapons as she chose. No more people needing her. No more people hanging on her skirts. No more… family.

  She gasped and stumbled backward, shaking her head. Her sisters. Her mother. Corbin’s parents. They couldn’t hide from the Dragon forever. This man would kill or enslave them all simply because they stood in his greedy way. The warped rush of pleasure shriveled from her horror.