Thud, thud, thud… The steps reached the landing not a moment later.
“What’s this?” We clearly heard from inside. It was the voice of the Abbot himself, apparently talking to someone. Several people in fact, as we heard voices answer him.
“I knew that you couldn’t trust her, your grace – just look, she is sleeping on guard duty!” It was Quartermaster Greer.
“We have no time for this nonsense from her. I told you that what you heard was probably this girl talking in her sleep. The prince is feasting downstairs. You’ve accounted for all the other students, haven’t you?”
“Of course,” the Quartermaster said. “Counted them all myself.” For a brief moment, I wondered how it was he hadn’t missed me, but then I thought of Jodreth. Somehow the Quartermaster must have counted him in my stead.
“Take her to the feeding chamber, then,” the Abbot said. “No one will miss her for hours. If at all.”
“Well, you heard his grace!” sneered the Quartermaster.
“Yes, of course, sire,” Monk Olan said.
There was scuffling and grunting as I presumed Monk Olan picked Char up. My heart raced, and my hands went clammy and damp. What are they doing to her? The feeding chamber? What was that?
From the wilds, Paxala howled in fury and outrage. If only I could understand her, the way Char could. Perhaps then I could get some insight into what was truly happening.
One pair of feet thumped down the stairs. Were they all going? I was desperate to move, my arms shaking and my back in spasms. I had to get off this ledge. I had to save Char.
Paxala shrieked again, louder this time, as if she were flying closer.
“Hmm. The dragons are noisy tonight,” the Quartermaster murmured.
“Yes, they are. Strange,” said the Abbot, his voice coming from the window. All he had to do was lean out and he would see Jodreth and me hiding there. “But Zaxx the Golden will soon put a stop to that.”
Zaxx, I thought in horror. If he attacks Paxala—I had to find some way to stop her. But how?
The Quartermaster’s and Abbot’s steps joined Monk Olan’s, all of them retreating back down the tower. I wanted to scream in agony—from my clenched and aching muscles, from my anguish over what might happen to Char and to Paxala, but I bit my lips instead until the pain from them was sharper than all the rest. Jodreth was panting, unwilling to move. He must have wanted to be sure the others were truly gone.
We waited, my arms shaking even harder, my shoulders burning. We waited some more, until my hands started to slip from the rock.
Thump. From far below, a door slammed, and from the corner of my eye, I caught the movement of a small group of people, carrying a smaller. I craned my neck to see—was it Char? Was she awake? Could she somehow call off Paxala? And suddenly my hands gave way. I hissed—some ridiculous sense of self-preservation keeping me from calling out, as I fell backward.
Jodreth’s hand seized mine, gripped my wrist hard, but I was too heavy, and he too peeled from the window ledge.
“Avianis sanctis, sanctis zephyrus!” Jodreth Draconis hissed, and suddenly our falling slowed. We were still tumbling to the ground, spiraling as if we were feathers or leaves, falling only slightly slower than we would have without Jodreth’s spell or whatever it was. Jodreth mumbled the arcane words under his breath, over and over and over, the strain of the effort costing him mightily as he clutched my wrist and wrought his magic.
“…sanctis zephyr, sanctis zephyr…” Jodreth was almost pleading with his powers as we fell, and I stuck out my arms and curled my legs as we plummeted through the gorse bushes outside the monastery walls, Jodreth’s hold on me breaking as we tumbled body over body.
When we finally came to stop, I could not help the groan that came to my lips. Every bit of my body felt bruised and battered, but I wasn’t broken, not yet. A few feet away, Jodreth lay on the rocks, a nasty gash under his hairline. His eyes were open though, and he blinked at me, looking as battered as I felt.
“It looks like you saved me again.” I gasped for air, and in a flash, it came to me that it had not been pure fighting skills that had allowed Jodreth to save me all those months ago, but magic. How had I not realized?
“And now we have to save Char.” Jodreth pushed himself up, hobbling a bit toward me. “The feeding chamber – it’s a tunnel that they use from below the monastery, that leads out to a waterfall near the crater. It’s a secret place—one of the many tunnels this mountain is riddled with. Only Zaxx knows them all.” He braced himself against the monastery walls, clearly in pain. “But I know where the waterfall is. Come.”
I joined him, hurrying overland over the sides of the mountain, while Paxala hooted and shrieked from somewhere above us, coming for her companion Char just as we were.
We had avoided a confrontation up in the tower, but how would we ever save Char without one now?
As soon as we had fought our way through the gorse bushes and staggered along the narrow gully, to plunge headlong down the sides of Dragon Mountain, Paxala shrieking all the time from the overcast skies above, Jodreth turned to me. “Can you tell her to be quiet?” he asked seriously.
“Who, the dragon?” I said in alarm somehow feeling as if I could not share her name without her permission.
“Yes, the dragon – who else? She will bring down Zaxx on our heads!” Jodreth said in alarm.
“No, how could I?” I shook my head. Char could do it. “I can’t control her,” I said.
“Oh,” Jodreth looked at me for a long moment, as if something didn’t make sense. “I was sure that it was you who had the ability…” he shook his head once, abruptly, before indicating that we were to push on, and to be quiet.
What ability? I wanted to ask, but before I could do anything there came the sound of splashing water. The waterfall.
We stood on the rocky edges of one sharper side of the mountain, looking down into the dragon crater. Scraggy trees and bushes dotted the cliffside like giant spiders and waterfalls tumbled from several tunnels. How would we know which waterfall was the one they were taking Char too? At least the dull roar of water hid the sound of our movements easily, as Jodreth pointed below us, and crept forward. He had spotted something.
To our right, and below the rocky cliffs we were clambering across, there was a large opening, like a giant had scooped out a hole with his hand. A warm, flickering light spilled from it—torches, I thought—shining through the waterfall that coursed over the far side of the cave’s opening.
Raised voices echoed from inside the cave–whoever it was in there must have had to shout to be heard over the roar of the water. Jodreth raised up a hand, and we both stopped to listen.
“No, leave us!” the Abbot shouted, and though I could not see anyone, I guessed it must be the Quartermaster and Olan. “Leave the girl and me here.”
There was a reply, from too far inside the cave for us to make out the words.
“Tell the prince I’ve been momentarily detained. This will not take long,” the Abbot scolded and silence fell once more. Jodreth looked at me, and the meaning was clear. The Abbot Ansall was down there on his own, and that meant that now was the best chance to rescue Char. I nodded that I was ready, although all I had on me was my belt knife. Could Jodreth’s magic be a match for the Abbot’s? I wondered. I had seen the Abbot break through boulders the sizes of carts, but then, Jodreth had managed to save us both from splattering over the mountainside. They were both powerful, I knew – but who would win?
We inched closer, right to the lip of the cavern, until we could see inside. The Abbot stood alone in the center of a large, dry space, Char’s unconscious form to one side.
“ABBOT,” a terrible voice broke into my mind, and into my ears, a voice that seemed made of clashing swords and grating bones. Even stranger, I knew it wasn’t human, and I could hear it in strange double-exposure, both physically and mentally. I looked over at Jodreth, who had pressed himself against the back of the wall of th
e cliff. He had heard it too.
There was another creature with Ansall.
“Your most gracious servant,” we heard Abbot Ansall say.
“What is this? A gift?” The voice like cracking teeth said once more, making my head buzz with headache. What could be causing such a reaction? It was a vaguely familiar sensation—and then I remembered. When Char and Paxala were talking to each other, in their minds there had been that same kind of buzzing. Only that had been more pleasant, perhaps because they were my friends...? Now I could hear the bull dragon right here, in my head as well. It must be because he was so powerful.
“Of course—a mighty gift for a mighty lord of his people,” the Abbot purred.
“And what do you want in return? Have I not given you much already? Allowing you to clamber all over my mountain, infesting my caves like rats?” The voice was scolding, and it made me want to shut my eyes. “Can one girl really make amends for that?”
“Ah, but she has magic. Strong magic in her veins,” Abbot Ansall said. “Just smell her and see…”
There was a sudden movement from the side of the cave walls, and the roar of the waterfall changed as a shape pushed its enormous snout through the waterfall and into the feeding chamber below. It was the gigantic, horned head of Zaxx the Golden. I bit my lips in horror as the creature squirmed and shoved its fat neck through the tunnel, water playing all over it and running down the sides of its mantle like a flaring scarf. His head was almost the size of the entire feeding cavern I guessed, almost the size of the entire Main Hall. The bull dragon’s scales were the color of burnished bronze, a ruddy gold and not flashing or shining as some of the younger dragons. Instead there were scales as thick and as encrusted as shields, cracked and faded, and from the creature’s mouth came the stink of rotting meat. Without bringing its forefeet or its wings forward, it reminded me of some kind of serpent, or a worm as it undulated towards Abbot and the prone body of Char below.
I watched with utter disgust as the dragon reached forward to sniff at Char.
“Hmmm. Natural dragon magic in this one? What a surprise that must be for you, Abbot,” the dragon boomed. Every time that Zaxx the Golden said Ansall’s title it was with a sneer, like the dragon was mocking him.
“But first, we need more,” the Abbot said sharply, daring to defy the lord of the crater. “There is a Vicious Green dragon with one foot injured. It is weak, and the crater will not miss it I am sure.”
“Erlok? No. She is still a good fighter. There is Dumaston, an Earth Dragon that can be culled.”
“A flightless brown Earth Dragon?” The Abbot sounded appalled. “Are you insulting what we do here, mighty Zaxx? This child has natural, wild dragon magic in her veins! Dumaston is little better than a lizard and no equal trade. If you wish us to continue to protect your brood, then you know we need to be brave in our choices. I want Erlok, or one of the Sinuous Blues.”
The mighty golden dragon was silent for a long moment, and I could sense him fuming, his anger as clearly visible in my mind as strong as if it were the heat that steamed the waters falling on his shoulders. I… I can feel this dragon, I thought with something like awe, and something like horror as well. As soon as I recognized it, I knew that it was something that had been there all along, lying beneath my perceptions the way one might not notice the color of a rug or a blanket under your feet – but there all the same. I could feel a little of this dragon’s thoughts and feelings – and unlike Paxala’s quick and birdlike mind, this beast’s thoughts were dark, ancient, and full of bones.
“Hugaia, then. You may have Hugaia,” Zaxx finally agreed, and moved.
A sound like rattling swords and shrieking eagle cries split the night sky from above us, and we heard distant calls and shouts of alarm, as the dragon pipes sounded.
In response, Zaxx flinched as if struck, and every time that they were blasted, Zaxx appeared to shake his head as if the sound hurt his ears. “Ach!” I winced, as some bleed-over of the great monster’s thought tumbled into my head too.
“STOP THIS!” Zaxx roared, and my chest vibrated with the force of the sound.
Still the dragon pipes continued.
“It is not me – the monastery must be attacked!” the Abbot cried in fury. “One of your kind has broken free from the crater perhaps. I thought I heard dragon call in the skies this very night.”
Paxala! The realization shot me through with dread. She had not followed us here. She must have circled back to the monastery—but why? Was she trying to create a distraction to help us? But how long could she keep it up, if the dragon pipes affected her the way they affected Zaxx?
I didn’t have a chance to wonder any further though, because the dragon pipes sounded again and Zaxx roared once more.
“None of my brood!” Zaxx thrashed his head as the dragon pipes played again. “Stop your infernal pipes, Abbot, and you can have Hugaia. Get me a proper feast and you may have Erlok too!”
It occurred to me that maybe the pipes were a trick, designed to force Zaxx to give up more of his brood than he would have otherwise offered, but Zaxx the Mighty, unable to stand the piercing sound of the dragon pipes withdrew back into the waterfall. As he went the awful feeling of the bull dragon’s presence retreated from my mind as well, as Zaxx sought out peace in his deep subterranean burrows under Dragon Mountain.
Paxala, tormented by what was happening to Char, continued to hoot and call as she circled above the monastery somewhere far above us, above the cover of the clouds.
“Enough of this nonsense. What a shame to do this, but at least it will bring me great pleasure…” the Abbot snarled at the form of Char below, and I gasped, rising from my hiding place.
But Jodreth was quicker. “In the name of the Draconis Order, I accuse you of heresy!” he shouted, pushing me back and out of sight as he leapt over the ledge, landing with a heavy thump in the feeding chamber below.
“What is the meaning of this? Jodreth?” the Abbot took a step back from Char. “Is this all your doing, you meddling pup?”
“Of course. Who else, Your Grace?” Jodreth said sarcastically.
“You should have had the good decency to die the last time we met,” the Abbot said, starting to raise his hands into the air.
“Probably. I know you’re killing dragons, Ansall. That is not the way things were meant to be…” Jodreth stepped forward, his limp obvious. “The Draconis Order should be protecting the young dragons, not bartering for their deaths…”
“You know nothing of what I am doing here. You were always stubborn, never willing to learn what I had to teach you,” the Abbot said as he drew himself to his full height. In a sudden forceful gesture, he threw his hands forward and roared “Flamos!”
I watched as a jet of fire plumed from the Abbot’s fingers, growing larger and stronger until it engulfed the place where Jodreth had been standing.
“No!” I gasped.
But there was something happening in the center of the flame, a dark shape that was becoming clearer and clearer. It was a hunched form of Jodreth, holding one forearm up as if he were holding a shield of blue and white ice. The Abbot’s magical flames burst around it in a wave, and the shield protected Jodreth, even as its surface hissed and dissolved, only to be constantly renewed by his own magic.
The Abbot roared in frustrated exhaustion, and the flame winked out. Jodreth staggered backward from the onslaught, the ice-energy shield shimmering on his arm as he threw it like a discus at the Abbot.
With a terrible crunching sound, it burst apart into a thousand scintillating fragments, sending the Abbot tumbling against the far wall.
“Torvald! Get Char out of here. Quickly now,” Jodreth shouted as he limped towards the Abbot. Using the magic was having a terrible toll on Jodreth, making his body shake with fatigue, and I would have done almost anything to help. I scrambled down the ledge to Char who was still sound asleep and slumped by the side of the wall, keeping my eye on the Abbot, who was thankfully still s
prawled on the ground, not even moving. I’m not proud to say I felt a surge of relief and pleasure at the sight.
“Jodreth, come with me,” I hissed at him as I hefted Char on my shoulders like I would lift a stack of spear poles for my father. “You can come to Torvald, we can look after you.”
“No, Neill, I have to finish this. The Abbot Ansall has been killing dragons,” and with that, Jodreth turned back to the groaning form of the older man in the black robes, and I ran – well, I stumbled.
I reached the edge of the feeding chamber when I heard a snarl of anger from behind me. The air smelled burnt and singed and light bloomed through the night sky.
“Neill?” murmured Char. “My head hurts, what is happening?”
“We are getting you to safety,” I said, hoping and praying that Jodreth would be strong enough to deal with the Abbot as I staggered out onto the mountainside, while the magical battle raged on again behind us.
“Okay, okay – put me down.” Char whispered after a while, and I did so. Soon we were both stumbling over the rocks and around the end of the cliffs and gullies until we were at the edge of a deeply forested part of the mountain. I’d never been there before. The flashes of the confrontation between Jodreth and the Abbot had dulled behind us, and now there was only the occasional boom as we collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
There was a screech and something very large hit the edge of the mountain. We’re going to die, was my first thought, but when that didn’t happen, I opened my eyes to see Paxala was here, standing over us, sniffing Char’s body.
“It’s me, my heart, it’s me,” the mountain girl was saying, reaching a hand to touch the Crimson Red’s nose. “I don’t know what happened,” Char told both of us. “One minute I was so tired all the time, and going to the Mage classes, and then it all became like a waking dream. Never-ending lessons with the Abbot, candles, swords, and so tired…” Char shook her head in horror.
Dragon God (The First Dragon Rider Book 1) Page 21
