“Yes, My Lord. You can create anything with it.”
“Anything?” Dark asked. He paused a moment and looked around the room. All eyes were on him. “How about creating weapons, Kimber?”
Kimber’s smile faded.
“We’re the ones scrambling to keep this world from tearing itself apart, now that elves have our magic and are using it to create weapons that God never intended,” Dark said. “We’re on the defensive, if you haven’t noticed, Kimber, and it seems I’m the only one who fears what will happen if elves start developing a culture that surpasses ours. But perhaps I’m wrong, Kimber. After all, I make mistakes, just as you’ve made one today. Perhaps I need to visit the shaman. I must be insane to see such a vision of the future, where my race lives as second-class citizens.”
Dark glanced at the other dragons. “Dragons, am I losing my mental luster?”
“No, My Lord,” they said simultaneously.
“Surely, something must not be right. I beg you all—tell me the truth.”
“You are fine, My Lord.” The other dragons lowered their eyes. Kimber looked back at them, but they refused to make eye contact, and when he realized what trouble he was in, he gulped.
Dark’s anger rose. “Then the problem is you.”
Kimber was silent. An almost imperceptible tremble started in his legs.
“So when you tell me that the elves are resisting you, Kimber, you tell me that you have absolutely no understanding of history.”
The dragon whimpered. “No, that’s not true!”
“You tell me that your ancestors’ sacrifice means nothing to you.”
“No, please!”
“You tell me, Kimber, that the future is lost and I have wasted my time with you.”
The dragon threw himself on the floor in front of Dark.
“Oh?” Dark asked, stepping forward. “Now you understand the danger of your situation? Get up.”
When the dragon didn’t move, Dark screamed the command again. The dragon jumped to his feet.
“Why should I spare you?” Dark asked.
The dragon opened his mouth to speak, but Dark slashed him across the neck and blew a column of fire in the dragon’s face. A river of blood erupted from the dragon’s neck and the ground shook as he tumbled.
The other dragons tried to step around the blood, but eventually it covered the entire bone floor.
“I was looking for an answer, not an excuse,” Dark said. “Who else has a bad report to give me tonight? If so, get out of my sight.”
The remaining dragons slipped away down the hall. Except one.
Norwyn whistled, and several human servants entered the chamber. They wore rags and their faces were smudged with dirt. They bowed to Dark, then surveyed the scene, grimacing at the gore. They exited, returning shortly with buckets of water that they threw across the floor.
“Who’s next?” Dark asked, pretending that the exchange with Kimber had never happened.
A female dragon stepped forward. She and Norwyn were the only ones left. She alternated her glance between Dark and the dead dragon on the ground, then cleared her throat.
Dark used another trick that his father had always used after such moments of brutality. He reverted to calm.
“Yes, my dear?”
Her name was Tessa. She was in charge of the gardens. She had pale, gray scales and long, twisting claws. Before the curse, Smirnagond had kept trying to convince Dark that she was worth courting, but he wasn’t interested.
“It’s about your parents.”
Dark frowned. “What about them?”
“I don’t know any other way to tell you this, but the curse is getting worse. They’re dying by the day.”
Dark had tasked her with finding ways to alleviate his parents’ pain. She was the one who had told him about the salve that he brought for his father.
He could not give her any rage. Instead, he spoke to her softly. “What did you discover?”
“Your father’s hearing is getting progressively worse. Your mother seems okay for now, but his illness is taking a toll on her. They’re hurting, and I know you know this already, but they’re trying not to let you see it. They hold themselves together when you’re around, My Lord. I watch them, just as you’ve told me. And please forgive me for saying this, but I think you need to start preparing for the day when they will no longer be here.”
The humans threw more water across the floor, the splashing sound echoing off the bone walls. For a moment it seemed as if his head were underwater, watching Tessa’s lips move as her voice sounded like a gurgling stream.
He closed his eyes. He refused to accept what she was telling him, and he cut her off.
“I’m not giving up on them,” Dark said.
“But the customs—”
“Damn the customs. They are not simply elders, Tessa. They were cursed.”
“There’s no reversing this,” Tessa said. Her eyes were alight, and her claws scratched the ground as she approached Dark. “Even if we were to find a cure for the curse, the damage done to their bodies may be irreversible.”
“May.”
“We don’t know, My Lord. We’ve never seen a curse like this before. They’re suffering. This isn’t the dragon way.”
“So we let them die?” Dark asked. “We send them into the woods and let them die in a hole like animals?”
“No. We let them die with dignity,” Tessa said. “Don’t act like this is a surprise. I’ve already told you my thoughts.”
“Your thoughts were worthless, which is why I chose not to acknowledge them.”
Tessa pursed her lips. She said nothing, and Dark hated the silence as it deepened between them.
“How long, Tessa?” Dark asked.
“Months, maybe another year.”
“Then there is time.”
“It has been two hundred years since the curse,” Tessa said. “A few more months will not make a difference, My Lord. We are out of time.”
“Thank you, Tessa,” Dark said, ending the conversation and turning to Norwyn. “Where are we with the rune?”
“We’ve located the village.”
Dark cocked an eyebrow. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Tessa blocked Dark’s path. “You can’t run away from this.”
“I don’t have the mental clarity to think about this right now, my dear.”
“When you appointed me to take care of your parents, remember what you told me?”
“That I wanted your brutal honesty, even if it meant overstepping your bounds. I’m aware, Tessa. And you are overstepping your bounds right now.”
“Good. Then I know you’re listening. My Lord, you need to make a decision. It doesn’t have to be today. Or tomorrow. But it needs to be soon. Don’t think about revenge. Don’t think about yourself. Think about their comfort. That’s all I ask.”
Dark spread his wings. “My parents are not going to die disgraced.”
He flew out of the palace before Tessa could respond.
V
Dark and Norwyn landed in a courtyard. The sky above was black, painted with orange flames from the vigil outside the palace walls. The crowd was singing hymns now, their voices swelling with each new verse. The smell of wax was still thick in the air.
The courtyard was bare compared to the gardens—mostly dirt, dead grass, and matted clumps of clover. The palace’s bone walls reflected against the grass, adding to the desolate feel.
That was another aspect of his parents’ design: everything outside had the appearance of being dead—to instill respect and fear. Dark had no intentions of changing that anytime soon.
“She’s right, you know,” Norwyn said.
Tessa’s words were on Dark’s mind, but he didn’t want to think about them. “Not you, too.”
“It’s what they would want. They’ll never tell you outright, though.”
Norwyn was always talking about right and wrong. It made for a good advisor, but not
a confidante.
The white dragon sensed Dark’s anger. But unlike Kimber, he said nothing and waited for Dark to respond instead. He did not back down, and he did not avert his gaze.
“What would you do?” Dark asked, reluctantly.
Norwyn exhaled, relieved that he could speak freely. “We have a lot of problems right now. Security issues with the assassination attempt. Monsters on the trade routes. The blights in the fields and the food shortage. Humans and their declining faith in our authority. Elven rebellions. And amidst all of this, we have your parents.”
“You make them sound like liabilities.”
“If you were the dragon lord, and you woke up one morning and your body was broken and without power, wouldn’t you feel like a liability?”
Dark considered the question. Norwyn always had a way of drawing an ethical line, even when the situation was difficult to discern. His blue eyes radiated confidence, empathy, and sadness.
“I don’t know,” Dark said, finally.
Norwyn started to say something, but he was interrupted by rapid footsteps in the grass.
“My Lord, My Lord, My Lord!”
A young green dragon ran into the courtyard. He had a chubby, round face with warts on his neck, webbed feet and a tail that was unusually short. He got hiccups whenever he was nervous, and he reminded Dark of a frog. So Dark nicknamed him Frog; he never knew what the boy’s real name was.
Frog slid to a stop at Dark’s feet.
“What is it, Frog?”
The young dragon panted and stammered something that Dark couldn’t understand.
“You look like you’ve been chased by an army of elves,” Dark said, laughing. “What is it, my boy?”
Frog regained his breath and calmed himself down. Then a hiccup exploded throughout his body, making him bounce into the air. He tucked his head into his chest and took in a deep breath, but another hiccup sent him into the air again. “You’re not going to kill my father, are you?” he asked finally.
Dark cursed.
Frog’s father, Toad, was one of Dark’s bodyguards, and to abandon the dragon lord was an offense punishable by death. Though, technically, Dark had left for the bog without giving Toad notice.
But Toad hated conflicts, and was always sending his son out in front of him to placate Dark when he knew he was in trouble. Fortunately for Toad, Dark was fond of the young dragon.
Dark grinned at Frog. “No, no, your father’s not in any trouble. Toad? I know you’re listening. Come on out so I can apologize.”
A hulking shadow emerged from behind the palace walls. Toad looked exactly like his son, except three times bigger and heavier. He had thick green scales and long whiskers growing from his warts.
“I followed ya’ to the bog,” Toad said. He had a thick, croaky voice and spoke in a slow drawl. That was the way of river dragons—Dark often felt like time slowed down whenever Toad spoke.
“I didna see the one who what tried to kill you,” Toad said. “I searched the place up and down. I thought you maybe’ve left but didn’t know for sure.”
“I should have told you I was going to the bog,” Dark said. “I’m sorry. I had other things on my mind.” Dark brushed Frog’s head with his tail. “Might I say that your son is growing fine and tall!”
“Yes, My Lord. He tis.”
Frog smiled as Dark caressed his head.
“Frog, what has my father taught you lately?”
Dark’s father had taken a liking to Frog too. He was a little slow, but then again, Alsatius had nothing but time. He gave the boy weekly lessons in the gardens, teaching him magic spells and history.
“We’ve learning history,” Frog said. The river drawl crept into his voice here and there, like bubbles bursting on the top of a pond. “Of what it was like to live in the Magic Wars.”
“I’m sure my father could lecture about the Magic Wars all night.”
“Yes, he likes to talk about the past.”
“Because it determines the future.”
“That’s what His Majesty says, but I don’t know,” Frog said. “The present isn’ too bad. No sense lookin’ back’n the time or predicting the future when we’re missing today.”
“That’s a good point,” Dark said. “Since you’ve persuaded me, my boy, why don’t you convince your father to take the night off and enjoy this seasonable night?”
Toad shook his head. “I’m meant to serve.”
“I feel terrible about leaving you behind, Toad. Please, take the night off.”
The truth was that Toad couldn’t concentrate when he was frazzled, as he clearly was. He made mistakes and missed seeing things that a bodyguard should have seen. On a night like tonight, Dark couldn’t risk it—even if it meant not having Toad at his side.
“It’s an order,” Dark said.
“You’ve too kind, My Lord,” Toad said, bowing.
Dark had a magicked coin in his hands, and he tossed it to Frog. “Why don’t you go patronize some humans outside? With the crops the way they are, you’ll gain a few friends.”
Frog’s face lit up at the sight of the coin. Toad ushered him out of the courtyard and they flew over the castle walls, a little blob and a big blob against the candlelit sky.
Shadows fluttered overhead, and a group of nine dragons descended. They were talking to each other and laughing as they landed.
They bowed to Dark.
His entourage.
“We are ready to leave, My Lord,” Norwyn said. “We’ve located the village of the elven assailant.”
Dark spread his wings and stretched his legs.
Soon, the conspiracy would be crushed, and one more problem would be solved. He tasted blood on his lips and savored the crunching of bones in his mouth. Smoke leapt from his nostrils, and he laughed as he lifted into the air.
“Dragons, let’s fly.”
VI
They flew through the starry night in V-formation, with Dark in the center and Norwyn at his side. They flapped their wings in a synchronized rhythm that sounded like war drums.
War.
War.
War…
Dark focused ahead. The clouds dissipated. The fires of a forested village twinkled on a shore. Beyond, the roar of the ocean against the rocks clawed through the night, and the water glittered with reflections of starlight and sea foam.
War.
War.
War.
War…
They wheeled to the left over a small mountain range, then dove down into a valley before rocketing upward as the wind whistled beneath their wings and gave them speed.
Dark let out a growl. Fenroot, the leader of his entourage, flapped his wings faster as the rest of the dragons did the same. The thick underside of his wings rippled in flight, and his swarthy face looked terrible in the moonlight—the kind of face that made dragons feared around the world. He stared ahead with a concentration that not even Dark could break. The gray dragon had exceptional flying skills—Dark could imagine no one else in front of the pack tonight.
War. War.
War. War …
The blue depths of the sea sparkled brighter as the elven village wheeled underfoot, a zigzag circle of huts with thatched roofs. Lines of brown canoes lay bobbing just off the beach. Even from far above, Dark could smell fire, roasted vegetables and the stink of fish. The village extended into the forest, where huts were built into the trees, connected by rope walkways that looked like a labyrinth of paths swaying in the wind.
Dark uttered a bone-shaking roar and the dragons echoed him. White specks scattered out of the huts in all directions across the sand.
Dark breathed smoke. He arched his claws and they glowed pink. He scratched the air, creating a glowing rune with a quick, jagged motion.
He breathed smoke into the rune.
Below, pink walls rose at the edge of the village, stopping the villagers from leaving. The walls were barely visible except for an ethereal pink energy that surged up whene
ver someone ran into them.
One of Dark’s claws cracked in half.
The cost of the spell.
He grimaced as the fissure sent a wave of pain through his foot. He ripped the claw off with his teeth and spat it away. Blood leaked from the open wound, but he licked it and soon the bleeding stopped. As his mother always said, a claw was always worth the price. Another, more powerful spell would have required caution.
Fenroot glanced back at Dark. The gray dragon had the look of war in his eyes, a rage waiting to be let out. A true dragon soldier. “Are you ready, My Lord?”
Dark licked his bloody claw. “Go.”
Fenroot broke off from the front of the group. He swooped down and cried, “You are in the presence of the dragon lord. Begin your prayers!”
They flew down closer as the elven villagers gathered on the beach. A muffled, uninspired chant rose into the air like an offering.
“That’s the best you can do?” Fenroot asked.
The chanting grew louder, but it did not please Dark’s ears.
“You’d think they don’t know how to sing,” Dark said, frowning. “Norwyn.”
Norwyn nodded and sped down, flying over the rooftops. He breathed fire on several huts and set them ablaze.
The villagers screamed.
“Louder!” Fenroot said. “Pray louder that our Lord might have mercy on you tonight. You disgrace him!”
The chanting reached a new level, and Dark could finally hear the words.
Smile for us, old dragon lord...
Dark motioned to the other dragons. “It’s time.”
A serpentine dragon flew alongside Dark. He had a furry mane of white hair that bristled in the wind, and his claws were glowing. “Should we create a sound block, My Lord?”
Dark thought for a moment. He needed to make an example of this village. But he didn’t want the countryside to know what was happening just yet. There was more investigating to be done, more skeins of the conspiracy to be unraveled yet.
“Yes, Moss,” Dark said. “Cast the spell.”
The dragon scratched a rune into the air, and the sound of the night grew muffled, as if they were inside a barrel. Dark heard only the flapping of wings, the huts crackling, and the villagers screaming and praying on the beach.
Old Dark (The Last Dragon Lord Book 1) Page 3
