Wrath of the Dragon King

by Brandon Mull

  “Titan Valley,” Calvin said reverently. “A dragon sanctuary as well.”

  “One of the three with a temple,” Lomo said.

  “Thank you for the news,” Calvin said.

  “How did you end up back here?” Seth asked.

  “I have the Sphinx to thank,” Lomo said.

  “I have him to thank for plenty too,” Seth said.

  “The Sphinx wrote a letter to Dalgorel complaining that my involvement against the demons violated the Fair Folk’s policy of neutrality. He threatened that if Dalgorel did nothing, he would call the neutrality policy into question. So Dalgorel dispatched some talented agents who found me and brought me in. I tried to evade them but was unwilling to fight them.”

  “How long ago?” Seth asked.

  “Nearly three years,” Lomo said.

  “Have you tried to escape from here?” Seth asked.

  “Not in earnest,” Lomo said. “My incarceration is a way to protest. My countrymen know I am here and why. It promotes thought and discussion that might not happen otherwise.”

  “I can’t stay here long,” Seth said. “There’s a war.”

  “Dalgorel placed you here mostly for your safety,” Lomo said. “It enables him to shelter you temporarily without being accused of playing favorites. You will not be held long.”

  “If you got out, would you help us?” Seth asked.

  “Until I am apprehended,” Lomo said. “Dalgorel would have to try to catch me to preserve his claims of neutrality. For now, let me introduce you to the food here. It is outstanding.”

  Stingbulb

  Kendra stood frozen, staring at the hulking brown bear. She had not yet traveled far from the creek where she had separated from Raxtus. Stepping out from a grove of aspens, she had found herself less than thirty feet away from the golden-brown beast. Humps of muscle rolling, the bear stood up on two legs and faced her direction.

  What if she had survived dragons to get mauled to death by a bear? What was she supposed to do? Play dead? Where had she heard that? Was it reliable advice? Or would the bear just come pounce on her? Had somebody once told her to run in a zigzag? Or that bears did not do well running downhill? There were no hills nearby.

  She had her bow. But would arrows stop something so massive? It was half again as tall as her, with a shaggy hide and a thick body. Could arrows penetrate deep enough to matter?

  Then again, she was supposedly in the kingdom of talking animals. Raxtus thought they were her firmest allies.

  “Hello?” Kendra tried.

  Staring in silence, the bear dropped down to all fours and started coming her way. The creature seemed to be in no hurry.

  “Is this the Zowali Protectorate?” Kendra asked. “I need help.”

  “And you hope I can talk,” the bear said in a deep, serious voice.

  “Yes!” Kendra exclaimed with relief.

  “What if talking bears still attack people?” the bear asked.

  “Do you?” Kendra asked.

  The bear stopped near her and sat on his haunches. “Not ordinarily.” He scratched his side. “Almost none of us would eat another talking animal. Including a human. But watch out for the crocodiles. They have been known to bend the rules.”

  “What do you like to eat?” Kendra asked.

  “Fish—especially salmon and trout,” the bear said. “I can also do beehives, ants, moths, berries, fruit, acorns, worms, roots, carrion, voles, turkey sandwiches, waffles, quiche, crème brulée, and so forth.”

  “Do you have a name?” Kendra asked.

  “Gorban,” the bear said. “And you must be Kendra Sorenson, our new caretaker.”

  “That’s right,” Kendra said. “Hardly a week on the job and already at war with the dragons.”

  “War started brewing as soon as Celebrant became a caretaker,” Gorban said. “You’re bold to come here alone, and not by any road I know. I see no griffin.”

  “A dragon dropped me off,” Kendra explained. “We were on the run.”

  “You have a manacle on your ankle,” Gorban said.

  “He bit through the chain.”

  “What dragon carried you here?”

  “Have you heard of Raxtus?”

  “Sure, the little one. Helped you, did he?”

  “He risked everything for me,” Kendra said, checking the sky. She could see a few dragons in the distance. None looked like Raxtus.

  “I’m glad he did you a good turn,” Gorban said.

  “Are there lots of talking animals here?” Kendra asked.

  “Many species, yes,” Gorban said. “Some more social than others.”

  “Are only the crocodiles dangerous?”

  “I’m dangerous,” Gorban said. “Especially if you’re a squirrel’s nut cache hidden within reach of the ground.”

  “You seem nice,” Kendra said.

  “Watch out if the crocodiles seem nice,” Gorban said. “They’re only nice when they’re hungry. Who should you really avoid? The snakes are seldom up to any good. The vultures want you to die. Coyotes can be punks. Most of the animals are amiable enough.”

  “I should try to find your leader,” Kendra said. “There is a war coming.”

  “We have a large territory,” Gorban said. “It’s a fair distance to Shelter, where Raj lives.”

  “Can I ride you?” Kendra asked.

  Plopping forward to all fours, Gorban shook from side to side, loose hide sloshing. “I don’t get that request often. Ever, really. But hop on. Let’s give it a try. We’ll get word out and maybe get you a proper mount.”

  Coming to the side of the bear, Kendra could not figure out where to grab to mount up. “How do I do this?”

  “Don’t be shy,” Gorban said. “Take hold of my fur. Scramble up. I’m not fragile.”

  Reaching up and over his broad, furry back, Kendra grabbed hold and pulled while swinging a leg up. With a little grunting and struggling, she managed to lie across the powerful back. After some shifting, she straddled him. Gorban started walking at a reasonable pace.

  “I can’t believe I’m riding a bear,” Kendra said.

  “I don’t recommend trying this without permission,” Gorban said.

  “I hear you,” Kendra said. “Where else are there talking animals?”

  “A few of the other preserves and sanctuaries,” Gorban said. “We’re the largest, most organized population. Some of our kind are still out in the wild playing dumb. A talking dog can pass for a normal dog just fine as long as he stays quiet. A few of us are even in zoos, living the easy life. I know of a pretty famous panda who can secretly speak—mostly in Chinese, but she is working on her English.”

  “How do you get your news?” Kendra asked.

  Gorban huffed a chuckle. “A little bird told me.”

  Kendra laughed. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Most birds are gossips.”

  “Giving rides now?” a chipper voice called from off to one side. “Can I climb aboard?”

  “Nice try,” Gorban said.

  Looking down, Kendra discovered that the newcomer was a fox. “Hello, I’m Kendra.”

  “Sherman,” the fox said. “We wondered if you would pay us a visit. You have your work cut out for you, sister.”

  “Dragon war,” Kendra said. “Are there other types of magical creatures in your territory? Besides talking animals?”

  “We allow a few types,” Sherman said.

  “Fairies, of course,” Gorban said. “Good for the flora.”

  “We might get more if Azalar stopped trying to eat them,” Sherman said.

  “An owl,” Gorban clarified.

  “Gnomes sometimes,” Sherman said. “The occasional nymph. Usually it’s just us fleabags.”

  “Can the fleas talk?” Kendra asked.

&
nbsp; “Not the insects,” Gorban said.

  “Can you imagine?” Sherman asked. He imitated a little voice. “Stop scratching, we’re trying to bite you.”

  “I’ve heard of talking tarantulas but never met one,” Gorban said. “Those are arachnids, of course.”

  “I met a talking cricket once,” Sherman said.

  “Don’t make up stories,” Gorban said.

  “I really did,” Sherman said. “Nervous little guy.”

  “The talking animals are seldom smaller than mice,” Gorban said.

  “And we tend to be bigger than others of our species,” Sherman said. “Better looking, too. And we live a lot longer. You’ve noticed my sleek fur?”

  Kendra had to admit he was a large, attractive fox with glossy orange fur and a bushy tail. “You could win a fox contest.”

  “She has a keen eye,” Sherman said. “Sharp for a human. You’re right—I’m a good fox. We have hens here, you know. Talking ones. These are prime hens, plump and juicy, straight out of a greedy daydream. How many hens go missing on my watch? Tell her, Gorban.”

  “None so far,” the bear said.

  “That’s right,” Sherman said. “I guard them like a brother. Hunt other game. Meanwhile these fat, slow hens wander about, pecking at the ground, almost no survival instincts whatsoever.”

  “You watch them a lot,” Gorban said.

  “Don’t misunderstand him, Kendra,” Sherman said. “I watch over them.”

  “A lot,” Gorban said. “You talk about them a lot, too.”

  “Everybody talks about hens,” Sherman said. “They’re a great topic.”

  “Sherman, can you do us a favor?” Gorban asked. “Run ahead and spread the word that Kendra is coming. We’re heading to Shelter. Tell some birds if you can. She could use a proper mount.”

  “Is she too heavy for you?” Sherman teased.

  “I’m not very fast,” Gorban said. “And she could be more comfortable.”

  “I love your fur,” Kendra said.

  “I’ll run ahead,” Sherman said. “You’ll have help in a jiffy.”

  The fox darted away across the meadow.

  “Now we might be able to listen to nature,” Gorban said. “Enjoy our surroundings.”

  “Does Sherman talk a lot?” Kendra asked.

  Gorban chuckled. “He talks like words are on sale and the sale ends soon.”

  “He’s not the only flashy animal,” Kendra said. “You’re a very good-looking bear. Big and strong. Thick fur.”

  “I suppose that goes without saying,” Gorban replied.

  They continued for a good while before a horse came galloping their way, sleek and white, groups of muscles bulging. “I’m Captain,” he said, coming to a stop near Gorban. The bear stopped as well. “You must be Kendra. Heading for Shelter? I can take you from here, if you like.”

  “Makes more sense,” Gorban said. “Pleasure to meet you, Kendra. Don’t take any nonsense from those dragons.”

  Kendra slid off the bear to the ground. “Thanks for the ride. And the company. Will I see you again?”

  “I’ll keep heading the way we were going,” Gorban said. “You have me curious. I’ll be quite a bit faster without worrying about making you fall.”

  “Okay, see you later,” Kendra said, turning to Captain. “You’re a big horse.”

  “Sorry, no saddle,” Captain said. “We don’t often give rides around here. But I run smoothly.”

  “I can help,” Gorban said, sliding his head between Kendra’s legs from behind and boosting her up.

  “Thank you,” Kendra said as she got situated on Captain.

  “You want to see Raj?” Captain asked.

  “Yes, please,” Kendra said.

  “Have you ridden anything besides a bear?” Captain asked.

  “Yes,” Kendra said. “In fact, I rode one of the Luvians from Blackwell Keep quite a bit.”

  “Which horse?” Captain asked.

  “Glory.”

  “That’s my sister,” Captain said. “One of the smartest horses I know. Just couldn’t talk. What a shame.”

  “She likes Jane Austen,” Kendra said.

  “I’m more of a Hemingway fan,” Captain said, beginning to trot. “Or Rambugwa.”

  “Who is Rambugwa?” Kendra asked.

  “He’s a baboon,” Captain said. “Literally. Excellent novelist. Adventures, mostly. Twisted sense of humor.”

  “’Bye, Gorban,” Kendra called over her shoulder.

  “Is that a hint?” Captain asked, advancing to a canter. “Are you all right?”

  Even without a saddle or reins, Kendra felt secure and balanced. And what a novelty to be able to talk to her horse! “I feel great.”

  Captain increased his pace to a full gallop. The gait remained smooth. As the afternoon light waned, Kendra passed through woodlands and fields. They slowed to cross streams, water splashing up against her calves, or to traverse uneven ground. Even through thick forests, Captain tended to find paths, so the gait seldom dropped below a canter.

  Kendra found herself enjoying the peaceful journey. This was a beautiful part of Wyrmroost. From time to time she saw animals at a distance—deer, pheasants, squirrels, a buffalo. She wondered if all of them could talk.

  Despite the pleasant scenery, her mind kept returning to the problem of the dragons. She could not guess what they were planning. Celebrant seemed unstoppable without help from Ronodin. What could the dark unicorn have told him to make it worse?

  Kendra worried about Seth and Tanu. She fretted about her grandparents back at Blackwell Keep. She hoped Raxtus had made it away from the dragons all right.

  The sun was nearing the horizon when Kendra and Captain came into view of what looked like a hybrid between a lodge and a giant stable. Captain ran to the building, then slowed as he entered through a door large enough to accommodate just about any animal Kendra could imagine.

  Inside they found a spacious room with a wooden floor and sturdy logs and beams forming the rest. Stalls ran along two sides of the room, with another large entrance on the far side. Stairs led up to unseen lofts. Logs blazed in the hearth dominating the center of the room, the smoke escaping through a hole in the ceiling. There was little furniture, but several perches offered places for birds to roost, and many feeding troughs could be seen around the room.

  Kendra felt surprised by the assemblage of animals visible, including gazelles, monkeys, elk, panthers, owls, wolves, camels, beavers, bison, otters, hippos, and ostriches. Near the fire, resting on a pile of cushions, awaited a huge tiger, licking a broad paw with a plump, coarse tongue.

  The animals had been speaking, but all conversation came to a halt as Kendra slid off Captain to address the tiger. She assumed he could talk, but it was still intimidating to realize this deadly predator was only a short pounce away. “Raj Faranah?” Kendra asked.

  The tiger stopped licking his paw and gazed intensely at Kendra. She felt like food. “You have found him, Kendra Sorenson,” Raj said, his voice calm, rich, and educated. “I trust Captain has been good company?”

  “Yes,” Kendra said. “Gorban too. Thank you for letting me shelter here.”

  “I wish we could do more,” Raj said. “Some of us are fierce, but we are no match for dragons in combat. I can offer safe harbor for as long as you need it. And I have a gift.” The tiger turned his head. “Come forward.”

  A handsome man came into view from behind the hearth. He wore a mustache, had a sturdy build, and was dressed like he was a century behind in his fashion.

  “Patton?” Kendra asked. “No. Impossible. He’s dead. You’re dead!”

  “You got that right,” Patton said.

  “Are you a ghost?” Kendra asked.

  “Don’t I seem solid?” He stepped forward and gave her a hug. It fe
lt good to press her head to his strong chest. This was her ancestor!

  She backed out of the hug. “You seem perfect. But how can it be you? Chronometer?”

  “No,” Patton said. “But we had our adventure with the Chronometer at Fablehaven not too long ago, from my point of view. This isn’t really me, Kendra. I’m a knockoff. A copy.”

  “You’re a stingbulb,” Kendra realized. Stingbulbs were rare fruit that could replicate anybody they stung. When planted, the bulb would grow into an imitation of the person in roughly ninety minutes.

  “You got it.” Hooking his thumbs in his pockets, he looked at Raj Faranah. “Told you she was a sharp kid.”

  “You won’t last long,” Kendra said.

  “A few days at best,” Patton agreed. “I stung myself and put the stingbulb in a null box. Left it with the animals in case of emergency. Raj was around back then, but not in charge. It was an elephant.”

  “Hinto the Great,” Raj said. “One of our finest leaders.”

  “What’s a null box?” Kendra asked.

  “You know how a Quiet Box keeps a person in stasis?” Patton asked.

  “Yes,” Kendra said.

  “A null box is smaller and even more intense,” Patton said. “Time and entropy basically stop in there. I would sometimes store my avocados in this one when they were just right. It also keeps toast warm.”

  “And keeps a stingbulb from growing,” Kendra said.

  “Until some friendly critters plant it,” Patton said.

  “We had the stingbulb for years in case of an extreme emergency,” Raj said. “When we heard you had reached our territory, Kendra, we planted it and told Patton to serve you when you arrived.”

  Kendra remembered that stingbulbs were very impressionable and would unquestioningly obey the orders of their first master. “You have Patton’s memories?” Kendra checked.

  “I am not really Patton,” the stingbulb said. “I am a replica of who Patton was in a certain moment. I have the personality he had then, the vocabulary, the memories, the aptitudes. I feel like him. And I know I am not him. I know it would be very hard for me to become much more or less than who I am right now. I can’t learn as he learned, but I can perform as he performed.”