Wrath of the Dragon King

by Brandon Mull

  “How should I know?” Tess said. “They look like guys with goat legs to me.”

  “Thanks, Tess,” Knox said. “See you fairies later. I need some answers.”

  Knox dashed to the house. Grandma and Grandpa Larsen had to know what was going on here. Seth did. Even Tess sort of did.

  Knox found Grandpa Larsen in the kitchen making a sandwich. He looked up as Knox entered. “Are you all right, Knox? You look flustered.”

  Knox paused. They stood in the kitchen with no evidence of magic anywhere. What if Grandpa Larsen didn’t know? He would look so foolish. But he could prove it! He knew where to find the milk.

  “You have fairies,” Knox blurted.

  Grandpa Larsen wiped mayo on a paper towel and set down the butter knife. “I was beginning to wonder if you would figure it out. Some never do. I thought you would be full of questions after Blackwell Keep.”

  “You know about that?” Knox asked.

  “Stan filled me in.”

  “Tess knows,” Knox said.

  “She plays with them a lot,” Grandpa Larsen said. “I wasn’t sure yet how much was her own make-believe.”

  “She doesn’t need the milk to see them,” Knox said.

  Grandpa Larsen raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

  “She’s never tried it,” Knox said. “She sees them and talks to them. She led me to the milk.”

  “Incredible,” Grandpa Larsen said. “Unheard of.”

  “What is going on here?” Knox asked.

  “Have a seat, my boy,” Grandpa Larsen said. “Allow me to introduce you to a larger, weirder world than you ever suspected.”

  Decisions

  Grandpa Sorenson removed his glasses and looked up from the invitation in his hand. “A feast? At Skyhold? You have got to be kidding me.” “This is no joke,” Agad said. “The consequences of snubbing the dragons could be serious.”

  Seth stood beside Kendra in Marat’s private study. Agad, Grandpa Sorenson, Grandma Sorenson, Tanu, and Marat shared the room. Grandpa considered Newel and Doren too frivolous to participate in private councils. Calvin remained in Seth’s pocket.

  The chamber smelled of old books, spent candles, and wood polish, with a faint undercurrent of burnt hair. Seth stared at the various oddments assembled on desks and shelves, including several carved wooden boxes, an abacus, and a collection of animal teeth. He wondered if the large hourglass with blue sand really would last an hour if overturned. And why blue sand? Was it magical?

  “More serious than our caretakers falling into enemy hands?” Grandma Sorenson asked.

  “Potentially,” Marat said. “Unless we provide a legitimate excuse and quickly offer to fulfill the request on an alternate date, Celebrant could claim Kendra and Seth have abandoned their post as caretakers.”

  “Celebrant was so mad the last time I saw him,” Kendra said. “I know he wants revenge for us stopping his attack.”

  “You and Seth would be protected by hospitality law,” Agad said. “Those protections are not only a matter of honor. If he violated them, Celebrant would lose his status as caretaker, magical punishments would be brought to bear, and his good name would be ruined in the magical community.”

  “No dragon would violate hospitality code, simply as a matter of dignity,” Marat said. “A dragon of Celebrant’s status would not consider it.”

  “Raxtus warned it wasn’t safe,” Seth said.

  “Of course it isn’t safe,” Agad said swiftly. “The dragons will seek every advantage they can through the interaction. Other leaders of Wyrmroost will no doubt be present. Celebrant will want to make you look foolish and incompetent. He will try to compromise your integrity. He will seek to intimidate you. And who knows what other motives he may have.”

  “But they won’t eat us,” Kendra said.

  “Not at the feast,” Marat said. “They will not physically harm you there.”

  “Should I go alone?” Kendra asked.

  “Both caretakers were invited,” Grandpa said. “At least the two of you should attend.”

  “I’ll go too,” Calvin offered from Seth’s pocket.

  “Who else could come with us?” Kendra asked.

  “Only those who can resist dragon fear,” Grandpa said.

  “Marat?” Seth asked.

  “None of dragonkind who have sided against their own should cross into Skyhold,” Marat said. “Unless explicitly invited, we would be considered traitors, not visitors.”

  “That includes me and all true wizards,” Agad said.

  “Because you’re all former dragons,” Kendra mused.

  “I could probably brew up a potion that would let me temporarily resist dragon fear,” Tanu said.

  “A courage potion?” Seth asked.

  “A specific type of courage potion,” Tanu said. “Tuned for dragons.”

  “Would it work on me?” Seth asked.

  “Worth a try,” Tanu said.

  “I’d rather not hold hands the whole night,” Seth said.

  “Might be awkward while eating,” Kendra said.

  “And during every other second,” Seth said.

  “Could anyone else come?” Kendra asked.

  “Skyhold is high in the Ragged Mountains,” Agad said. “The only practical way to arrive is by griffin, and none could carry Henrick.”

  “Nobody else here can withstand dragon fear,” Marat said.

  “There is a road,” Grandpa said.

  “The road to Skyhold is long and winding,” Agad said. “I’m not sure Henrick could get there by tomorrow.”

  “With Tanu there they will have trusted supervision,” Grandma said.

  “I’ll supervise too!” Calvin volunteered.

  “I’m not sure whether our numbers at the feast will have much bearing on their safety,” Marat said. “They will not face direct physical danger. A possible pitfall I foresee is Celebrant wanting to strike deals or alter the official relationship he has with you. That should be avoided.”

  “This all presupposes Kendra and Seth will choose to attend,” Agad said.

  “Sounds like we better,” Seth said.

  “Celebrant is up to something,” Kendra murmured.

  “I know,” Seth said. “But Agad already explained that Celebrant can’t attack us there. Don’t you trust Agad?”

  “Yes, of course,” Kendra said. “We’ll just need to be extra smart.” She eyed her brother.

  “I’m always smart,” Seth said.

  “He’s smarter with me,” Calvin said.

  “Okay, I’m in,” Kendra said. “We can’t abandon our duty. With all the unrest, we need to strengthen our position as caretakers, not weaken it.”

  “What can we do there to help our cause?” Seth asked. “Spy?”

  “Keep all eyes and ears open,” Agad said. “Most important, you must go and return without weakening your position. At present, with the scepter in our possession, the dragons simply cannot invade Blackwell Keep, no matter their numbers. We need to keep it that way. Enter no agreements with Celebrant, regardless of how enticing they may seem. Just coming home will be a victory.”

  “How many feasts can they throw?” Kendra asked.

  “If you attend this one, we should be in the clear for at least a year,” Marat said.

  “Other leaders of the various factions at Wyrmroost will be present,” Agad said.

  “Like who?” Seth asked.

  “The leaders of the protected territories,” Agad said. “Lord Dalgorel of Terrabelle, Raj Faranah of the Zowali Protectorate, Grand Imperator Karzal of Gundertun, Amulon of the Herdlands, and Lowly Vatka of the Sludgeholes.”

  “I know Dalgorel,” Seth said. “None of the rest.”

  “The Zowali Protectorate are the talking animals,” Kendra said. “What wa
s the name of their leader?”

  “Raj Faranah is a mighty tiger,” Marat said. “His territory has long been allies of the caretakers.”

  “They send you the mute Luvians,” Kendra said.

  “Yes, very good,” Agad said. “Fascinating to watch those horses read. I find it calming. Gundertun is the gnome kingdom, run by Karzal.”

  “The Grand Impersonator,” Seth said.

  “Imperator,” Grandpa clarified. “You’ll want to master that word. Gnomes can be bristly.”

  “Amulon rules the taurans here,” Marat said. “That includes the alcetaurs, like Henrick; the cervitaurs, who are half deer; the rumitaurs, who are half elk; and some centaurs.”

  “What type is Amulon?” Seth asked.

  “Rumitaur,” Agad said. “With a grand rack of antlers projecting from his head.”

  “A human head with antlers?” Seth checked.

  “Yes,” Agad said.

  “Sweet,” Seth said, holding his hands up to his forehead, fingers splayed.

  “What about the last one?” Kendra asked.

  “Lowly Vatka might be the least likely to attend,” Marat said. “She speaks for the inhabitants of a marshy region called the Sludgeholes.”

  “She has the best name,” Seth said.

  “Vatka is a fairly powerful hag,” Agad said. “Her philosophy is that a leader should be the servant of all, hence the ‘lowly’ title. She has managed to unite several races under her influence.”

  “Will it be good for us to meet these people?” Kendra asked.

  “The dragons will be working hard against us,” Marat said. “We need all the allies we can muster.”

  “None of the leaders of the free territories want the dragons to overthrow Wyrmroost,” Agad said. “But some may expect it is inevitable and align themselves accordingly. We want as many leaders as possible to believe you can hold control of the sanctuary. It would not hurt to make friends.”

  “Aren’t the Fair Folk always neutral?” Seth asked.

  “Generally, yes,” Marat said. “But they will quietly assist one side or the other when it suits them. All members of the free territories have magical protections that would hold even if the preserve fell—but they would all prefer for it to survive.”

  “If the sanctuary falls, they lose their outermost defenses,” Agad said. “And they no longer have caretakers watching over their interests. If the preserve falls, and the dragons so choose, the territories will not last.”

  “Which is why some might hope to align themselves with Celebrant,” Marat said. “The dragons are a big enough threat. We’d rather not have the whole preserve turn against us.”

  “Isn’t a festival night coming up in a few days?” Tanu asked. “The summer solstice?”

  “Another problem,” Grandpa said with a sigh.

  “I imagine a festival night is especially violent here,” Grandma said.

  Agad and Marat exchanged a tense glance.

  “We avoid meddling in the festival nights,” Marat said.

  “It is pandemonium from dusk till dawn,” Agad agreed. “We hide behind our defenses until the night ends.”

  Seth had lived through some festival nights at Fablehaven, when many of the ordinary boundaries at the preserve fell and the inhabitants could run wild for a night. His first festival night was the most memorable, when he had made the house vulnerable by opening a window and almost getting his grandparents killed. Wyrmroost was a much larger sanctuary than Fablehaven—he could only imagine how dangerous Midsummer Eve might be with dragons involved.

  “The feast is tomorrow,” Kendra said. “Let’s survive that first.”

  “The solstice comes three days later,” Grandma said.

  “You would depart early tomorrow evening,” Agad said. “Then return that same night.”

  “Can I take Tempest?” Seth asked.

  “Her wild nature served you well dodging and outrunning dragons,” Marat said. “But for this outing, steady, experienced griffins would be the wise choice. You want the evening to go smoothly.”

  “Kendra, Seth,” Grandpa said. “If you, Calvin, and Tanu are doing this, we have logistics to manage. You are determined to attend?”

  Kendra nodded.

  “A whole castle full of dragons,” Seth said reverently. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  After the meeting, Kendra wandered over to the churchyard, picking her way through the gravestones until she found the one marking her ancestor, Patton Burgess. Most of the headstones around it were broken or tilted. Some were worn smooth. Patton’s sturdy marker still bore a clear inscription.

  Patton Burgess

  Word to the Wise

  Tread Lightly among Dragons

  Kendra knew there was no body in the grave. The headstone was a fake to appease some dragons who had been disgruntled at Patton. She also knew that the headstone extended far beneath the ground and contained a secret message that had helped her find one of the keys to Zzyzx, the demon prison.

  But reading his name still helped her feel close to Patton. This was a monument to someone she knew and loved. Someone who had helped her in times of need. Though he had died long before she was born, Kendra had met him, thanks to a time-travel device called the Chronometer. She wished he were here now. There never seemed to be a problem he couldn’t handle.

  “Everyone is depending on me,” Kendra said quietly. “I’m worried this feast with dragons is just the beginning. One of the dragon sanctuaries has already fallen. Bracken is lost. The whole world is falling apart. And I’m supposed to hold it together.”

  The headstone had no reply.

  “Maybe you’re the lucky one,” Kendra said. “You already lived your life. How did you last so long, through so much danger? The stress alone feels like enough to crack me up sometimes.”

  She tried to imagine Patton, calm and confident. How would he have answered her question? One day at a time? One crisis at a time? Doing what had to be done? Wishing on a lucky star? Eating her vitamins? Her imagination felt insufficient.

  Kendra looked at the fortress around her. It was so big to have a staff of roughly twenty—a misfit skeleton crew of people and magical folk. Blackwell Keep could easily have housed hundreds. Most walls and towers looked abandoned. She felt less like the commander of a fort and more like the watchperson of a derelict castle.

  Would hundreds of defenders matter against a dragon? Couldn’t a geyser of flame roast a hundred soldiers as easily as five? The real protection came from the treaty that had founded Wyrmroost and the magical defenses that kept enemies out. Not even Celebrant could huff and puff his way past the invisible barriers shielding the keep.

  And if the Dragon King ever breached the walls with his followers? Well, nobody inside the keep would survive for very long.

  This invitation to the feast had to be part of Celebrant’s revenge plan. There might not be a way for the Dragon King to directly harm her or Seth at the feast, but it had to be part of a larger strategy. Maybe if she stayed aware, she could use the feast to get a sense for what the dragons were planning.

  Kendra took out the horn Bracken had left her. Unicorns shed their first two horns before the third and final one. This was his first. Squeezing it tightly, Kendra tried to send words to Bracken, asking if he was all right, asking him to speak. Sometimes she could feel his words in her mind. Not right now.

  Where was he? Wounded? Alone? In need of rescue? The thought of him in danger somewhere was almost too much to bear. She felt so useless.

  An extremely fit fairy with grayish skin, a green shift, and dragonfly wings bobbed in front of Kendra before alighting atop Patton’s headstone. She looked up at Kendra expectantly.

  “Hello,” Kendra said. “Do you have news?”

  The fairy stamped a foot and splayed her arms. “I wouldn’t seek out a
human for fun.”

  “Doesn’t get much more fun than a graveyard,” Kendra said. “What happened?”

  “A dragon got into a brawl with a bunch of hill giants,” the fairy said.

  “Does that happen often?” Kendra said.

  “Hill giants will fight just about anything,” the fairy said. “That level of ugly doesn’t worry about injuries. Most look better after losing a scuffle or two.”

  “Thanks for the info,” Kendra encouraged.

  “I’m not to the important part yet,” the fairy scolded, stomping both feet.

  “Go on.”

  “The fight was up by Wolfbane Reservoir,” the fairy said. “They broke the dam.”

  “Will it flood down here?” Kendra asked, looking toward the outer wall of the keep.

  “No, the water washed down Thirsty Gulch,” the fairy said.

  “So the dragons broke a dam?” Kendra asked.

  “The giants fighting the dragon broke the dam,” the fairy said. “And the flood took out the bridge at Thirsty Gulch.”

  “What bridge?” Kendra asked.

  “Where the High Road crosses Thirsty Gulch,” the fairy said. “That’s your news.” She flitted away.

  “Thank you,” Kendra said. “Keep reporting on any unusual dragon activity.”

  The fairy did not look back.

  Kendra leaned against Patton’s grave and folded her arms.

  A dragon and some giants had gotten into a fight and caused serious damage. Was this an isolated incident? Did such brawls occur often? Or was this a hint of worse problems to come?

  It wasn’t even Midsummer Eve yet.

  How bad were things going to get?

  Stingy

  “We’re getting gear?” Newel asked, biting into an apple as he walked along the corridor beside Seth.

  “So he can feast with dragons,” Doren said from the other side, untangling the string of a yo-yo as he strolled along.

  “You should bathe in a nice marinade,” Newel suggested.

  “Maybe a curry?” Doren asked. “Do dragons fancy curry?’

  “They’re more into hot sauce,” Seth played along. “I’ll make a necklace of jalapeños.”