Realm Of Blood And Fire (Book 3)

by Dionne Lister

  The boy, who was only as tall as Agmunsten’s chin, nodded. The older man hid the guilt he felt, quickly averting his eyes to watch their enemy. The head realmist was happy to see that Zim and Warrimonious had moved themselves to other ships in the fleet. Astra had stayed on their ship, in case a circle was needed.

  Astra stood, bouncing from foot to foot, ready to engage. “How many do you think there are?”

  “Hard to tell. There would have to be at least fifty.” Agmunsten ignored the fear that squirmed inside his belly, begging him to run. He gritted his teeth. We are not going to lose. “What are we waiting for?”

  “Huh?” Astra looked at him, confused.

  “Sorry, talking to myself. We’re waiting to see if they attack first. Stuff it; I’m engaging. Let’s get this over with.” The pressure on deck dropped further as all three realmists drew power. “Arie, you shoot your first fireball over there; Astra, you shoot yours over there.” Agmunsten had chosen them to hit the outer part of the circle, while he aimed for the center. Some of the gormons may be shielded, but they couldn’t all be. He was going to try his luck. “Ready. Aim. Now!”

  Just as the realmists threw, the gormons broke apart, aware of what was happening below. Astra’s missile hit one of the slower gormons, who caught alight in a rush of flames. As he fell, he hit two of his brethren, setting them on fire too.

  Arie’s fireball clipped the wing of another gormon, who burned until he fell with a sizzle and splash into the ocean. Agmunsten’s fireball shot harmlessly through the gap in the eye of the gormon storm as they dived. Without waiting, the realmists drew again and hurled their projectiles.

  Soldiers on the ships held their curved swords aloft, chanting “Achtar Zamahl! Achtar Zamahl!” while the sailors scrambled to get out of the way, some ready with buckets to extinguish any flames.

  The gormons swooped over the ships, spewing fire. They hit sails, masts, soldiers and sailors. Scream after scream rent the brine-scented air.

  The realmists hurled fireball after fireball, hitting their mark more often than not, burning winged bodies falling to land in the water or on the decks, eager sailors rushing to put out the fires and make sure the ships didn’t burn.

  Bright orange flared to Agmunsten’s left as three gormons hit one ship, the flames spreading quicker than the sailors could act. Although the realmists had agreed to try to stop the ships from burning, if they turned their attention from firing at the gormons, they would make the ships an easier target. The quicker they could kill the monsters, the better. The cries of the soldiers and sailors, as they abandoned ship or burnt, reached the realmists. Arie hesitated, turning to the noise.

  “Keep firing, lad. There’s nothing we can do for them.”

  Another ship, near their bow, burst into flames. The burning timbers warped, squealing almost as loudly as the gormons who cried out triumphantly in their hissing, gravelly voices. The conflagration lit up the ocean and made the terrified faces of the sailors clear to Agmunsten. They were losing this battle—three ships down, and it looked like they would all sink by the end. He had to think of another way.

  Smoke blew into their faces. Arie coughed. Zim and Warrimonious had launched into the air, gaining altitude away from the mass of gormons wheeling and swooping. By ducking in with random attacks, they would give the gormons something else to think about and hopefully distract them enough to slow the carnage.

  Agmunsten noticed the dragons’ ploy as Zim dove from above, heading for two gormons flying next to each other. They hadn’t seen him coming. Zim stopped his black scales from turning red—he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Instead of flaming the gormons with his breath, he released a jet of flames from his hands through the Second Realm as he flew past.

  Before they could react, their hides blistered and flamed. The air passing their bodies as they flew, fanned the fire—their deaths swift.

  “We need to try something else. We can’t kill them fast enough. I’m getting tired.” Astra gritted her teeth and threw another fireball.

  “Join hands.” Agmunsten reached for his comrades. Arie and Astra’s hands burned in his—the amount of channeling they were doing was taking its toll. They couldn’t keep this up much longer. And what Agmunsten had in mind this time would likely incapacitate them. If this didn’t work, it was all over. “Hold steady. I’m going to ask a lot of you. Don’t let go, whatever happens.”

  They both looked at him with fear and resolve—his words were clear to them: hold on until you die.

  The three stood in a circle, feet wide, planted securely on the deck. Agmunsten drew first; then Arie; then Astra. The head realmist filled the corridor with power, taking in as much as he could—it felt like gulping down more water than his mouth and throat could take, and he wanted to gag. The others drew as much as they could, and the power transferred to Agmunsten.

  Sweat poured from his face and arms, dripping to his hands and mixing with the moisture of his companions. As the energy built inside his body, threatening to scorch his veins, he formed an intricate network of power in the sky above the gormons—invisible, until he set it free. He sent a warning to the dragons. Zim, Warrimonious, stay away. Then he said one simple word: “burn.”

  A gossamer net of fire spread across the sky. Arie thought it looked like a giant, bright spiderweb. Agmunsten fought off a dizzy spell as he lowered the net onto the gormons. It was like catching fish—he swept the net lower, snagging more and more of the beasts from the Third Realm.

  One after another they caught alight, until they formed one titanic, airborne bonfire that looked like a miniature sun. Only a few gormons escaped the net; those were hunted down and killed by Zim and Warrimonious.

  With one last wrench of force, Agmunsten shifted the net so it would fall into the ocean, rather than on one of the ships. When the last spark sizzled out in the debris-strewn water, the realmists stopped the flow of power, Agmunsten falling to his knees, his hands slapping on the ash-covered timber. Arie and Astra sat next to him, catching their breaths, the boy taking off his smudged shirt to try to cool down and wipe the smoke and sweat from his face.

  Zim helped the sailors put out the last of the fires. Most of the ships had damage but would make it to Brenland—if they weren’t attacked again. The dazed captains steered their boats carefully through the sea of charred timber, barrels of water, gormon carcasses and dead bodies, hoping to find any of their men who had been lucky enough to have survived.

  When they were ready to sail again, two of the boats had lost sails, another all its masts. Spare sails were commandeered from the better-condition ships, but the de-masted ship could not be repaired. “Warrimonious and I can take turns dragging it.”

  Agmunsten, who finally had the energy to stand, looked at Zim. “You can’t do that. Do you know how much that thing weighs?”

  “We’re strong. I’ll use the Second Realm to help get it going, and once we’re moving, it will be easier.”

  Agmunsten shook his head. His shoulders slumped, and his hands dangled by his side—he didn’t have the energy to argue. “Whatever you want, Zim. I’m going down below to rest.” The head realmist swayed as he turned and climbed below deck.

  Arie looked at Astra. “If they send more, we’re not going to make it to Brenland, are we?”

  The Zamahlan looked at the boy, sadness in her eyes. She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. And with the damaged ships, we’re going to go a lot slower. Even if they don’t send more, we’ll be lucky to reach Vellonia in time.”

  “Is there anything we can do?”

  Astra enclosed the boy in a hug. “Pray, Arie, just pray.”

  Chapter 25

  Tonight was the night. Leon and the gormons had secreted themselves in a vast cave system three hours from Vellonia. As the sun warmed the Talian soil, they waited for darkness to intervene while the Inkran soldiers had marched ahead to wait under the protective covering of the forest outside of Vellonia.

  When Leon had
first laid eyes on the mottled, spikey forms of sixty-thousand gormons, he had laughed manically. They couldn’t lose. He would have enjoyed melding into Kwaad in front of Edmund, but they wouldn’t have time to perform the changing ceremony in the middle of battle, so he bided his time with Tusklar and High Priest Zuk.

  And with his saboteurs inside the dragon city, the gormons would fly in, the Inkrans on their backs, unhindered by those stupid spires. Oh, yes, the dragons are going to pay. Leon was so enmeshed in Kwaad that he wasn’t sure if that thought had been his or the high priest’s. Not long now.

  He could almost taste his brother’s flesh.

  ***

  They had skipped practice that morning because they would need to be fresh for tonight. Bronwyn, Blayke, Avruellen, Arcon and their creaturas sat in King Valdorryn’s meeting room with the other heads of state.

  Edmund drummed the table with his fingers. Jaz’s huge eyes held anger, and her tail flicked across the floor intermittently. Arcon and Avruellen shared worried glances, and King Valdorryn had been asked, twice in the last fifteen minutes, not to yell. The stress was showing throughout the city, with skirmishes between dragons, suspicious glances between dragons and humans, and the constant frantic search for the missing eggs.

  Valdorryn checked his voice before speaking to his wife. “How long are we going to keep Emerance locked in the dungeon with no proof that she took the eggs?”

  “We don’t need proof; I know it was her.” Jaz glared at her husband.

  “But their family has been through so much already with Symbothial. What if she’s innocent?”

  “She’s not. There’s been something funny going on there for a while. She’s not always there when I visit, and the guards have been off with the fairies. I have no idea what in the Third Realm is going on, if it isn’t her. She has all the access she needs and the motive. We never did punish Symbothial’s killers, after all.” Jaz and Valdorryn turned their heads to look at Bronwyn and Sinjenasta. The realmist looked down, her face heated.

  “There’s no use going over old ground now.” Avruellen, who was sitting next to Bronwyn, reached for her niece’s hand. “I tend to agree with Jaz. You have no better suspects, and besides, she is safer down there, considering what is going to happen tonight.”

  King Edmund nodded. “And have you still not heard from Zim or Agmunsten?”

  “No.” Valdorryn hung his head for a brief moment.

  Arcon spoke. “If anyone hears from any of them at any time, you have to let me know straightaway. Bronwyn and Blayke have to activate the amulet tonight, and without them, we can’t.”

  Edmund continued to tap his fingers on the tabletop. “Can’t you ask the other realmists to fill in?”

  “We still might have to, although we’re not likely to succeed. But if we have no choice . . . .” Arcon shrugged.

  “Alaine.” Valdorryn turned to the queen. “Your troops have been spread around the valley, with your archers in the uppermost levels of the quarters across the valley?”

  “Yes. We’re also going to station some next to the spires. Your dragons have been moving them up there. I’ve heard it’s rather cold.”

  “There’s still some snow on the very top peaks. I hope you’ve dressed them warm.” The king smiled.

  “We have. And we’ll be using the same kind of arrows we used at Bayerlon. Fire is our best weapon.”

  “Yes.” said King Fernis. “Those beasts go up like a prostitute’s skirt on festival night at a brothel.”

  Everyone laughed, and Avruellen snorted.

  “So, to continue, my wife will be in the Heart of Vellonia, making sure the spires don’t get clogged.”

  “What kind of protection have you put in place?” asked Arcon.

  “Two of my best dragon guards.”

  Arcon shook his head. “That’s not enough. If my suspicions are correct, that Crotus fellow could be a problem. We need someone with the power there too.”

  Avruellen looked at her brother. “But who? Who do we trust enough?”

  Arcon rubbed at his short beard. “Zella, I think. We’ll talk to them soon and decide.”

  “So now what?” Bronwyn looked at Valdorryn.

  “We wait. We’re serving dinner before it gets dark. The gormons have to be at least an hour or two away—there’s no caves, except for those in Vellonia, for many miles, and they can’t fly until the sun sets. As soon as the sun goes down, I want everyone to be at their posts. We won’t get another chance.”

  Bronwyn swallowed, and as she gazed at the faces of her elders, she knew they felt as nervous as she did. Their whole world was poised on the edge of disaster. Many lives would be lost tonight—whether they succeeded or failed. When Bronwyn’s eyes finally met her brother’s, she saw sadness and fear. She sensed he knew something he hadn’t told her, but with enough to worry about, Bronwyn didn’t want to ask—sure she’d find out soon enough.

  As they filed out of the meeting room for the last time, Bronwyn felt for the amulet. It was safe against her chest. What would happen when they activated it? Devorum had told them they would have to sacrifice something. What would it be?

  Bronwyn glanced at her loved ones walking ahead, talking quietly. Sinjenasta, I don’t know if I can do it.

  The panther saw her looking at her family. If you decide not to, I will stay with you here.

  Bronwyn’s eyes filled with tears. I can’t ask you to give up your dream to be a man again. You could go to the Sacred Realm and find someone else—surely there are beautiful women there. Her stomach clenched at the thought of him with someone else.

  There are, but they’re not you. We’re bonded, and nothing can change that. I will always feel your presence, even across the realms.

  The realmist looked down at the panther and remembered his human face—the face that had given her plenty of pleasant dreams. She had known the moment she had first seen him that there was a deep connection.

  Bronny, let’s not talk about it now. We can decide, when and if the moment arrives. We have to survive the gormon war first, remember. The panther lolled his tongue out in the semblance of a grin.

  She smiled. You’re right, as always. Let’s go eat what may be our last meal ever.

  Hey, no negative talk! He swatted her on the bottom with his paw, managing to elicit a giggle from her as they entered the dining hall.

  ***

  Crotus, weighed down with a heavy sack, approached the two dragon guards who stood outside The Heart of Vellonia. “Good evening, my dragon friends. Your eminent King Valdorryn has asked me to give you these haunches of venison because you won’t have time to eat later.” He opened the sack so the dragons could reach in.

  The sapphire-blue dragon looked inside and sniffed. “Mmm. Smells fresh. Thank you—Crotus, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Enjoy. I’ll come back later to get the sack.” He turned and strolled back the way he had come, slipping into a nearby storage room to wait. The herbs he had put into the venison were the exact amount the gormons advised—enough to put the dragons to sleep for one to two minutes. Any longer and someone would notice them asleep. He waited two minutes before sticking his head out of the door and peering down the hall. They were still taking great bites out of the meat.

  He ducked back into the room and counted to sixty before bobbing his head out again. The sapphire-colored dragon was on the floor, the greenish-gray one keeling over. Crotus ran up the hall then used the key that Symbothial had hidden in his room before he died.

  Once in the red-tinged room, he crouched in one corner, concealed by one of the columns and his cloak, which he turned inside out—the red side facing up. The color was dyed to match his surroundings exactly and was infused with Second-Realm power so that anyone who looked at it would gloss over it, disinterest causing them to lose focus.

  Now he just had to wait for the critical moment—Leon would give the signal. And when he finished here, he was to incapacitate those snotty teenagers, Bronwyn and Blayke�
�Leon wanted them alive, if possible. Crotus stopped fidgeting when he heard muffled talking outside.

  Jazmonilly had watched the sun set with her family, but now it was time to do her duty. Everything had to go just right—she had a grandchild coming. Her smile faded, replaced by concern to see the messy leftovers of the guards’ dinner. “Who’s coming to clean this up?”

  The blue-scaled dragon bowed. “I’m sorry, Queen Jazmonilly. One of the realmists brought them, thinking we wouldn’t get dinner otherwise. He said he would come by later for the rubbish.”

  “Oh, very well. I guess that was considerate of him. Next time you see one of the maids pass, please tell them to take them away.” She placed her key in the lock and let herself into the room.

  Delving into the streams of power, she didn’t find any blockages. “Very good.” She smiled. “Now we just have to keep it that way.”

  ***

  The sun had well and truly set—not even a brief glimmer of color tinted Vellonia’s night sky. Phantom stood on Arcon’s shoulder, Avruellen next to them with Flux sitting at her side. Sinjenasta sat, his head tilted up to the darkness. Bronwyn gazed up too, her hand on the panther’s shoulder, Toran standing by her other side—she hadn’t known how to tell him she didn’t feel the same way about him as he did about her, but she supposed after tonight it wouldn’t matter.

  Despite Avruellen asking her nicely to stay safe in the mountain, Corrille stood with Blayke and held his hand, while Fang peeked from his favorite top pocket. Aimee stood next to Bronwyn after getting death stares from Corrille. Arcon had decided to send the old lady, Zella, to the Heart of Vellonia.

  The two other realmists were there, and Fendill was with Queen Alaine, but where was Crotus? Arcon growled.

  “Are you all right?” asked Avruellen.

  “Look who’s not here. What mischief is he getting up to?”

  Avruellen looked around. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now.”