by D K Drake
The logistics of the swap baffled Javan. Varjiek’s ability to become invisible could easily allow him to fly around town undetected. That part made sense. But how did that big dragon get a hold of a small bottle the size of a soda can? Did he tear the roof off of a house to get to it? Or did it just happen to be in the open, allowing Varjiek to swoop in and make the trade without having to hurt anyone or destroy any property?
Javan was grateful the dragon had gone to the trouble to secure the ointment and had more important things to think about than how he came to possess it. Like where were his grandmother and the other missing townspeople of Gri? Had Ravier and his mother found them yet?
How was his mother? Everything had happened so fast after he rescued her from the Dark King. They never had a chance to talk before he took off on this mission with Varjiek, and he didn’t like what he saw. She looked gaunt and lifeless after being paraded around Zandador like a criminal for the better part of a month, then stuck in the dungeon to rot.
He was less concerned about his grandfather Ravier. The man was a seasoned soldier, and the week he had spent in the dungeon didn’t seem to weaken him. If anything, that had only sharpened his resolve to battle the king. What had seemed to suck the life out of him was the moment he had realized his wife Hannah was missing.
The gruff man who had trained Javan had been reduced to a puddle of mush in that moment. Javan was happy to learn that his grandfather had a heart capable of feeling, but he didn’t like witnessing Ravier’s anguish. Hopefully he had pulled himself together and now led the hunt to find Hannah.
Surely Astor and Hamilton were helping with the search.
He wished they were helping him. He missed the boxing lessons with the big, burly Hamilton and the Zandadorian survival lessons with the old, knowledgeable Astor. He even missed the dreadful but challenging sword fighting lessons with Ravier.
What if he hadn’t learned enough to be able to make it on his own? He did fail miserably in his attempt to collect Mertzer and would have a scar to show for it for the rest of his life. Although he had managed to collect Varjiek on his own, that was only because the dragon had gotten himself caught in a time trap. It was either allow Javan to ride him or remain frozen in time for however long it took for the time trap to run its course.
What if the next dragon Javan met decided Javan made a better meal than Collector? Then Micah would win the throne on behalf of Omri, and the Dark King would remain in power. The people of Zandador would continue to suffer for centuries, and the remaining dragons in the land would not survive Omri’s reign.
Javan pulled the fish away from the fire. It was cooked to perfection and ready to eat, but his appetite had vanished.
If he was back home in Montana, his biggest worry right now would be lack of playing time on the junior varsity football team. That seemed so insignificant now.
A soft breeze rustled the fire and tickled Javan’s cheeks.
Varjiek. The dragon could make himself invisible, but the wind from his wings gave him away every time.
“I know you’re here, Varjiek,” Javan said. “You might as well let me see you.”
A puff of smoke floated toward Javan from across the fire. Then the dragon’s grey-scaled body appeared. How do you do that? How do you know every time I’m near? It’s annoying.
“It’s my job to know.” Javan cocked his head and smiled. He might have failed with Mertzer, but he had won Varjiek. He could win again with another dragon, especially now that Varjiek was on his side. “You’re my dragon.”
His stomach growled. Good thing he had a fish ready to eat.
◊◊◊
“Next!” Micah could barely feel his frozen hands as they clutched the handle of his sword. As cold as it was in the valley they had traveled to over the past two days, he should be wearing gloves. But he didn’t like anything covering his hands when he fought.
After watching thirty-seven soldiers burn in Fury’s Pass, he preferred to be cold anyway. Trying to warm himself by the campfire only brought back images of those flames surging through the mountain walls and the sounds of the men and women burning to death.
Why did losing the soldiers bother him? It wouldn’t have bothered his father.
Ryiah, a dark-skinned soldier about the same height and build as Micah, stepped into the circle Micah had carved into the snow. Micah vaguely recognized him as one of the men in his unit, but he didn’t recall ever hearing the man speak. That’s what Micah had liked about him: all brawn, no fuss.
Without a word, Ryiah tossed his coat aside and threw the hat that was covering his shaved head on top of the coat. Drawing his backsword, he nodded at Micah.
The bonfire to the right of them provided enough light for them to be able to see each other in the late-night darkness, prime hunting time for Midnight Stalkers. They had yet to come across any, but this was not the time of day Micah wanted to find one.
Since Midnight Stalkers hated loud noises, Micah knew none would approach their camp if they maintained the steady sound of clashing swords. Still, Micah had each of the dragons with him positioned around the camp, and soldiers were stationed between the dragons to create a full perimeter.
He had allowed Serenity to leave her position to hunt for her own midnight meal. Now he was facing the soldiers one by one in the sword-fighting ring he created. None of them stood any chance of beating him, but it was good exercise.
Ryiah thrust his sword toward Micah. Micah smiled and blocked it with his own sword. The fight was on.
The sound of steel smashing steel echoed off the mountains around them. Round and round the circle they went, trading blows. Ryiah wasn’t backing down. Or getting tired. Actually, he seemed to be getting stronger.
Who was this guy? Why hadn’t Micah ever trained with him before? He was proving to be a challenge, something Micah wasn’t used to encountering.
Micah had to concentrate to stay in control of the fight. Considering he hadn’t slept or eaten much since this journey began, concentration was difficult. Good thing he was so well-trained that he could almost fight with his eyes closed.
Ryiah was also well-trained. But by whom? Micah needed to know. While blocking blows to his head, waist and chest, he managed to spit out, “Who trained you?”
Ryiah paused with his sword in mid-air. Sweat dripped down his face. Fear flashed in his eyes. He looked like he didn’t want to tell who his mentor had been.
Micah moved the tip of his sword to just under Ryiah’s chin. “I asked you a question, soldier.”
“You’re not going to like the answer.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Ryiah lifted his head and lowered his sword. “Ravier.”
“Ravier? The traitor?”
“Told you that you wouldn’t like the answer.”
Before Micah could respond, a streak of lightning flashed through the sky. A tree just beyond the range of the camp’s perimeter crashed to the ground. More lightning streaks. More crashing branches and trees. The growls and grumblings of dragons added to the nightly noise.
“Excellent! Serenity has found us a Midnight Stalker!” Micah shouted. “Captains, mount your dragons and prepare to fight. All else, grab your weapons. Soldiers with bows, shoot the stalker’s wings to keep it from flying. Those of you with swords, stab at its legs to keep in from running. Now charge!”
The men and women scrambled to retrieve their weapons and began a stampede toward the lightning show. Micah sheathed his sword, flung it over his back and ran the opposite direction to retrieve Mertzer.
He found the dragon curled into a ball. Snoring. The dragon looked uncomfortable with the bridle still on his long snout, but Micah hadn’t taken it off in case he needed the dragon in an emergency situation. Like this.
He’d reprimand Mertzer later for falling asleep when he was supposed to be keeping watch. At the moment, he needed Mertzer awake and running at top speed toward the fighting dragons.
Micah grabbed the reigns as he
jumped on Mertzer’s back. The jerk of the reigns woke the dragon. “Get me to the Midnight Stalkers.” Mertzer shook himself awake from his head down to his tail, stretched out each leg and took off toward the fighting dragons.
Past the soldiers. Through the snow. Over rocks. Around trees. Until they reached a clearing. The Midnight Stalkers whose scales were slowly turning from grey to black circled each other. Every time one attempted an approach at the prize in the middle—a dead bison—the other would breathe a bolt of electricity to keep the offender away.
Serenity did not appear to be winning. She had a stripe of missing scales along her right side and was favoring her front left leg. The other dragon bore no battle scars and appeared to be in perfect condition. Its red claws matched its red eyes. Considering its size, Micah was surprised Serenity was still alive.
The dragon was a good ten feet taller than Serenity and made Micah feel like a midget sitting on top of Mertzer. Midnight Stalkers weren’t supposed to be as big as this one was. And they certainly weren’t supposed to have red eyes. If Micah could capture this unusual and frightening dragon, his father wouldn’t just forgive Micah; he would be bound to surrender the throne to him.
Micah’s breath hung in the air as he watched the dragons battle over their dinner. He could hear the stampede of approaching soldiers behind him and was aware of Vasilis’s presence above them. Neither Midnight Stalker seemed to notice the commotion. They were too focused on dinner. As much as they hated noise, that focus wouldn’t last much longer. Micah needed to take advantage of this opportunity while he could.
He maneuvered Mertzer so that he was standing sideways to the Midnight Stalkers rather than facing them. Micah drew his sword, stood on Mertzer’s back, and waited.
Red Claws was approaching from Micah’s left with his long tail dragging along the ground behind him. All Micah had to do was jump on the dragon’s tail and slice through it. Then the dragon would be his.
“Come on, come on, come on,” Micah muttered. He had practiced this tail-jumping move thousands of times. Even so, Micah felt his heartbeat kick up a couple of notches. The real deal was always more exciting than training.
The black tail inched closer. “Almost…” Micah made himself wait another second, then jumped.
His feet landed exactly where he wanted them, right in the middle of the tail.
The dragon’s scales were slicker than he expected. He slid a few feet but managed to stay on, drop down, and wrap his legs around the thick tail.
“You’re mine!” With both hands on his sword handle, Micah reached up. Just as he was about to slash the sword through the dragon’s tail, a bolt of lightning hit the sword, shooting it out of his hands. “What the…?”
Micah couldn’t finish his sentence. Not when he was staring right into the flaming red eyes of a hungry dragon.
Chapter 7
Defeat
“M
ertzer! Vasilis! Attack!” Micah shouted the command as he dove off the tail, barely dodging another lightning strike from Red Claws.
Vasilis breathed fire down from above. It took the dragon’s attention away from Micah but seemed to make Red Claws mad. The dragon spread his wings and shot straight up into the sky, ramming Vasilis in mid-air.
The collision took Vasilis by surprise and sent him spiraling out of control into the darkness. Red Claws remained unfazed. He kept his composure and swooped straight back down to Serenity. He kicked her head several times with his front feet. She didn’t put up any kind of a fight. All she did was yelp and crumple to the ground.
Mertzer looked ready to fight the super-sized dragon, though. As Serenity lay on the ground whimpering and covering her head with her wings, Mertzer charged forward. Except he was no match for Red Claws. One swipe of the giant dragon’s tail flung Mertzer into a nearby tree. Mertzer grunted as his head hit the tree trunk, knocking him out.
That’s when the first of the soldiers started to arrive. One managed to launch an arrow that zoomed past the ear of Red Claws. That was all the firepower anyone could muster before Red Claws turned around and, hovering in the air, fired back with a steady streak of lightning streaming from his mouth.
One by one, the soldiers in the first wave fell. No second wave approached. The men and women who witnessed the destruction of their comrades chose to turn and run away rather than face the same fate. Including Dahlia, the only uninjured dragon left on Micah’s side.
Cowards. All of them. Cowards.
Micah, however, wasn’t about to retreat, not while the tip of the dragon’s tail was brushing the ground. All he had to do was get to it and cut it off before the dragon tired of attacking the soldiers and flew away.
He picked up his sword and charged toward Red Claws from behind. Even though the soldiers were withdrawing, the dragon continued his assault. The noise of the screaming, running soldiers had the dragon half-terrified and half-crazed. Which was good for Micah. It gave him a chance to approach without being noticed.
As he ran, he kept his eyes on the tail. Ten steps. Five. Three. Close enough. He swung his sword at the tail. He missed. By a hair. Because just as Micah swiped at the tail, the dragon banked to the right, snatched the bison that started the battle and disappeared into the night sky.
◊◊◊
He…lost. He lost the dragon. And nineteen more soldiers. Thirteen men and six women according to Shara’s count. He had put her in charge of burying the dead. She hadn’t been thrilled with the assignment.
He wasn’t about to handle such a task. He needed to focus on more important things. Like analyzing what had just happened. How could he have lost the battle with that dragon? He was Micah, son of King Omri. He was a victor. Trained to win. Always.
What had gone wrong?
Micah considered the answer to his question as he paced in front of Serenity. She was slowly eating the deer and antelope he and Galiron had brought her while the remaining thirty-four soldiers and two captains buried the dead by moonlight in a mass grave dug by Vasilis and Mertzer.
His father’s dragons were the problem. They were too soft. They could easily destroy defenseless people in defenseless towns, but they were no match for dragons who were used to surviving in the wild on their own.
Now he had to bring Serenity food because she was too beat up to hunt for herself, patch up Vasilis after his collision with Red Claws and calm Dahlia down because she was spooked from the sight of the attacking Midnight Stalker. Five hundred years of being taken care of by humans had weakened the dragons.
Mertzer was a different story. He had awoken from being knocked out angry and ready to fight. Which meant Mertzer was his best chance at helping him hunt another dragon.
“It’s done,” Shara said. She approached with Phalloz and Galiron trailing behind her. Both men were taller than her, and her long brown hair blew in the cold wind. Without her bow on her back, she seemed as dainty as Dahlia. Micah wasn’t sure if the strained look on her ashen face was because she was tense or tired. “The other captains and I have been talking.”
That was definitely tension in her voice. Somehow the men had selected her to be their spokesperson. “You have, huh?” Micah said. “About what?”
“It’s time to return home. One more encounter with that monster we just faced will be the death of us all.”
Micah crossed his arms and studied the trio of captains. They stood shivering in the darkness. Looking weak. Defeated. These people were no longer of any use to him. Just like his father’s dragons.
“Have Dahlia teleport everyone back to the castle. Then send her back for me and Mertzer. I have somewhere else for us to go.”
One thing was certain. He couldn’t return to the castle. Not without another dragon. One with wings. One that currently belonged to Javan.
Chapter 8
New Territory
Micah found himself in a strange predicament. No one knew where he was. No one knew where he was going. No one knew what he had planned. And he had no one
to turn to for help. No friends. No mentors. No one.
He had been surrounded by people his whole life. Strategically placed people. People he wasn’t allowed to get attached to. Mentors never trained him for more than a month at a time. They only discussed skills, technique, logic, rules, facts. Never emotions or feelings or anything personal.
The same held true for those he trained with. Because his heritage made him better than the people around him, Omri would not permit Micah to become buddies with his colleagues. Micah was more important than the people he worked with and had to behave accordingly. He couldn’t be an effective leader if people he served with saw him as their equal and their friend.
Micah understood his role. He liked being independent and having the ability to suppress his emotions. That made him powerful. Just like his father. He thus willingly complied with all of his father’s instructions and learned how to cope with not confiding in anyone about anything.
What he didn’t understand was why Omri kept him away from his brothers and sisters. They might not all share the same mother, but they all shared the same father and thus the same bloodline. That made them equals, right?
Then again, it also made them rivals. Only the strongest among them would be able to win the throne. It would be easier to fight his own siblings if he didn’t know anything about them.
He knew something about one of them, though. That’s why he had Dahlia transport him and Mertzer here to the middle of Zandador, right outside the fishing city of Madai.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have sent everyone else back to the castle. Had he kept some members of his unit with him, he would be able to order them to set up shelter, hunt for food and do whatever else needed to be done. Now he had to take care of those pesky survival details on his own.
He knew how. Years and years of tough training made sure of that. He just didn’t like it. He preferred having people around him to do his bidding so he could focus on more important things. Like how to hunt dragons.
