But Dark pulled himself to his feet. He looked more surprised than angry. Then the old dragon’s face hardened and he held up a claw that began to glow with pink energy.
He aimed it at Lucan.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Lucan said. He reactivated his grimoire on a blast rune—he was prepared to blow Old Dark out of this place, even if it meant dealing a serious injury to himself.
He wasn’t taking any chances.
Dark roared as more energy gathered into his claw.
“I dare you,” Lucan said. “I dare you, you stupid reptile.”
An orb formed around Dark’s claw and he attempted to fire it.
Instead, the orb exploded, engulfing his claw in a blast. Dark howled and shook the magic out of his claws.
Lucan sighed with relief.
“You ... tarnish ... The ... of ... ancestors ... curse!”
“Yeah, well, whatever the hell you said, stick it up your ass!” Lucan yelled.
The dragon’s face flushed with fear, and he limped into the darkness.
Lucan dashed down the steps and slid to Miri and Celesse. Miri panted heavily. Celesse tried to hold her up, but even Miri’s small frame was too much for her.
Miri licked her lips. Her arms and legs had turned to stone.
Lucan clicked his tongue. It was the worst kind of reaction.
“The spell protected her, alright,” Celesse said. “How are we going to get her out of here?”
“I’ll be fine,” Miri said. “We have to go after him.”
“So he can cut us to pieces?” Lucan asked.
He scanned the room, spotting a wooden cart loaded with gold and jewels. He threw them off and rushed the cart over to Miri. He and Celesse hoisted her onto it, and then he took the handles.
Outside, they heard Dark roar.
Then gunfire.
Lucan’s stomach turned on itself.
Earl, Tony, and the contractors were outside.
And they didn’t have magic to protect themselves.
XXI
Dark tore out of the mausoleum, breaking the great double doors off their hinges.
His shoulders ached from the impact.
He felt the humid air of the bog, a welcome blast of fresh air that his lungs needed.
Then he heard screams.
Humans and elves, at least a dozen total, sat inside yellow carts made from metal. They wore strange, thick clothes that he had never seen before.
Dark roared and the humans and elves screamed again.
Dark stomped over to a nearby yellow cart and smacked it with his tail.
CLANG!
He had expected it to fly over the tree tops, but the cart did not move.
His tail was bloody from the slash.
What kind of contraption is that? he thought. He snapped at the cart, and the human inside pulled a metal lever with a ball on top of it and the cart reversed toward the water.
“What kind of conveyance is that?” Dark asked.
No response.
“No matter,” he said, plowing into the cart. The impact overturned the cart and threw the man into the water.
The air filled with a strange sound. He had never heard anything like it.
He whipped around.
Fire erupted from the humans’ hands, then disappeared.
Something ripped through his scales. He looked down. In his shoulder were several small holes. Then something tore through his arms, ripping his insides as it burst out of the other side.
And then the pain hit him and he roared.
What kind of magic was this?
He charged at the men, scattering them as they ran into the woods.
He wasn’t fast enough.
Another yellow cart with a shovel in front of it slammed into him. The impact cut through his scales and he tried to balance himself.
But more of the yellow carts cornered him.
He couldn’t take many more blows. He had to fly. If only he could make it into the air. They wouldn’t be able to touch him there!
He tried to spread his wings, but they didn’t respond. One of his wings flopped on his back and wouldn’t move, no matter how much he willed it.
What’s a dragon if he can’t fly?
He wasn’t going to die.
Not like this.
Not at the hands of humans and their strange machines.
With a roar, he pushed the machines aside. His path was clear now. He just had to cross the water, into the woods. He’d be safe then.
He started across the dirt, but more metalfire tore through his leg. He lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.
Nearby, an abandoned yellow cart with a huge rod that stretched into the sky wobbled.
Dark’s head struck the earth, making another boom.
The crane toppled over, and Dark covered his face as it landed on him, knocking him out.
XXII
Miri opened her eyes and found herself lying in a bed. She felt a soft mattress under her, and a down comforter wrapped snuggly around her waist.
She was in a nightgown that wasn’t hers.
Warm sunlight made her squint and put her hands to her eyes. It also made her head hurt, but her eyes slowly adjusted.
She was in a huge, open-concept penthouse with a high ceiling, granite floors and sumptuous furniture—ottomans, recliners and couches. A row of guitars hung on the wall, color-coded by wood type. A giant bookcase held at least a hundred worn hardcovers. Miri guessed they must be spell books.
A chandelier hung over the bed. Its value was probably more than her net worth, although, to be honest, her net worth wasn’t much.
The bed was the largest she’d ever seen—it could have fit three people. She had never slept on a bed this big; on a professor’s salary, she could barely afford a full-size, and she’d had to buy the box springs used. This was better than any hotel she’d ever stayed in.
On the comforter, she recognized the pentagram stitched into the down—the Grimoire family’s. It was curved with several arches and two inverted triangles crisscrossing each other.
The bed rested next to a long row of windows that overlooked Magic Hope City, a metropolis full of skyscrapers and buildings as far as she could see. The morning smog was making its way across the rooftops, the sun a grayish-yellow disk in the sky. The streets were far below, full of cars that moved like bright strings of ants.
A group of dragons flew horizontal to the skyline, and she watched them as they flew in V-formation, smaller and smaller until they disappeared into a cluster of clouds.
Church bells rang, echoing in the distance. It was eight o’clock.
She was in the heart of the city. The forested bloom of the bog was impossibly far away now.
She heard a blaring horn and knew she was back home where she belonged.
A breakfast tray sat on a metal stand at the edge of the bed. Toast, three kinds of jam, magical melons that glowed pink and purple, and sausage links, with a carafe of steaming coffee and one of orange juice.
She sat up. Her arms and legs ached, and she rubbed them. Just yesterday, they had been turned to stone. The spell must have worn off, but she still felt sore. Memories of the battle with Old Dark slowly came back to her, and she was grateful to even be alive.
But what a find!
She recalled the strong black dragon, and how he looked nothing like she had imagined. How old he was. How relentless.
Maybe now she’d be able to air her thesis. No one would deny her scholarship. Not with Old Dark still living.
But was he?
She stepped out of the bed, and warmth radiated through her bare feet.
The floors were heated. It felt odd at first, but then she told herself a girl could get used to this. A purple robe hung next to the bed. Feeling a breeze and nervous about being in clothes that weren’t hers, she took it and wrapped it around herself. It was too big for her, and it smelled like lavender and eucalyptus.
She found a blue s
piral staircase that reminded her of wind chimes. With each step downward, the stairs glowed.
On the lower level of the penthouse, paintings of runes decorated the walls at strange, uneven angles, as if the painter had thrown the paint at them with a giant calligraphy brush. A wine rack took up an entire wall, each column marked with brand and age. Several indoor trees rose from planters on the floor, giving the room a leafy smell. A balcony opened outside to an infinity pool and a cabana with a fireplace.
“You’re awake,” said a voice.
Earl was lying on one of the couches. His hat was on his chest and he looked as if he was still wearing the suit from the night before. Upon seeing her, he scrambled up and put on his hat, covering his balding head. “How do you feel, Miss?”
“I’ve felt worse.”
“That spell stoned you up something awful. My arms are achin’ from carrying you.”
“Earl, where am I?”
“We’re back home in Magic Hope City, Miss.”
“I know that.”
“This is one of Mr. Grimoire’s penthouses.”
Miri considered his words slowly. Just one of Lucan’s houses? So this was how the billionaire lived.
She tightened her robe. “I hate to ask this, but—”
Earl blushed. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Those clothes are clean. The boss keeps sets of clothes here for his, um, well, you know.”
“Girlfriends?”
“If that’s what you want to call them, then yes.”
Miri didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t want to think about who else had been wearing her nightgown.
Earl continued. “I didn’t change you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Celesse did.”
Celesse. Miri shuddered at the thought of Celesse, with her hourglass figure, seeing her body. They hadn’t exactly gotten off to the greatest start, and Miri was sure that adding a naked body to the mix didn’t help.
“Where is everyone?”
“Mr. Grimoire is handling some business. Celesse is doing damage control.”
“What about Old Dark? Is he—?”
“We got him, Miss. He’s alive.”
Miri clapped. “Then we have to go to him!” she said. “This is fantastic!”
She hurried around the room, searching for clothes. She wanted to leave as soon as possible. Breakfast could wait.
“Hold on,” Earl said. “We can’t go anywhere right now.”
Miri’s heart sank. “Why not?”
Earl grabbed a remote control off the couch and turned on a television mounted on the wall.
An elven reporter with a microphone stood in the bog. Her hair was pulled into a bun and she wore a blue field jacket. Behind her, sunlight shone through the trees. As she spoke, Miri could hear birds and crickets.
“Officials are investigating unusual activity at the Ancestral Bogs on the western continent. Around two o’clock this morning, motorists driving on Coastal Highway between Magic Hope City and Bogville reported groups of Magic Eaters on the side of the road. Sightings were allegedly in the thousands, and within a radius as large as twenty miles. I want to show you what our news helicopters are seeing right now.”
An aerial view of the bog flashed onscreen, showing a giant semicircle of flattened trees. Police officers roamed around it.
Miri smacked her head. “Oh no...”
The reporter spoke again.
“As you can see, we have a giant circle in the middle of the woods. Everything around it is untouched. Authorities have told me that the circle is a mile wide and that magic of some kind was involved.”
Miri turned to Earl. “What do we do, Earl?”
“It’s all taken care of,” Earl said, pointing to the screen.
“We also spoke to eyewitnesses who helped shed some light on what happened.”
The video transitioned to a clip of a middle-aged woman in a scarf talking to a reporter. They were on the side of a road.
A blue banner on the lower third on the screen read: Annette Potionberry, Eyewitness.
“I’ve never seen so many snails in my life. They were everywhere. I’m going to need new tires now.”
A black man spoke to the reporter while holding a can of soda: Antoine Foggs, Eyewitness.
“They were headed that way,” he said, pointing to the bog in the distance. “And let me tell you, they were hungry. I’m just glad I wasn’t the meal.”
Then, another man in a hoodie with a mustache and beard speaking to the reporter: Andrew Jackson, Eyewitness. “This is why I’m voting for Governor Grimoire. All of this paranormal crap has got to stop if we’re going to give our kids a culture worth living in. And no, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I could’ve died, man!”
The reporter continued. “As you can see, we have only questions and very few answers. But one thing is clear: there is a lot more news to come.”
A handsome human reporter in a news studio appeared split-screen with the field reporter.
“Any idea what caused this, Vera?”
“No, Kellen. But I did speak with a monsters expert at Magic Hope University, and this person told me that Magic Eaters are not normal in these parts.”
Miri frowned. She thought about the faculty list and who would have said that. It was unprofessional to comment to the news without notifying the public relations department. It would have made Dean Rosehill livid, and the dragon was probably ripping through the halls right about now.
“My source remains anonymous, of course, but this person also told me that Magic Eaters only come out when there is magic present. And if that’s the case, Kellen, this would have had to be one large energy source.”
“Are authorities commenting on any causes?”
“No. They won’t tell us much, and honestly, we are lucky to even be this close to the site. I’m being told that the governor’s office will be seizing the land pursuant to the Magical Lands Act, but that’s all we know.”
“Magical Lands Act? Is it possible that there was a sinkhole that opened up into the aquifer, perhaps?”
“It’s hard to say, but I’ll be reporting on this when I find out.”
Miri shook her head. Even she had questions about the news report. None of it made sense. Where was the tomb? And where was Old Dark?
She started to ask Earl a question, but the news anchor took over and Governor Ennius Grimoire’s picture appeared on the screen. “In light of the events at the Ancestral Bogs, the public has expected the governor’s office to comment on the investigation. However, neither the governor nor his staff is releasing any comments, and the governor has canceled all of his events for the next two days. Governor Grimoire has been under fire lately for his quiet handling of security events without notifying the public. As the election heats up, some are watching his response very closely, as even the slightest misstep could cede points to his nephew, Lucan Grimoire, who is far behind in the polls, but not so far as to be a long shot.”
Lucan’s and Ennius’s pictures appeared side-by-side. Lucan had a cocky, arrogant grin compared to the governor’s serious, grizzled pose.
“In other election news, Lucan Grimoire will be meeting with key potential supporters of his campaign tonight, including dragon ancient, Moss, who is widely expected to endorse him in the gubernatorial election...”
“This is a mess,” Miri said.
And she was involved in it. She didn’t know what to say. Her stomach growled, and nausea overcame her.
She had sworn that she would never get wrapped up in politics, and here she was, right in the middle of it all. Her name wasn’t mentioned, but that wasn’t the point. The moment the media found out she was even remotely involved, they’d plaster her face all over the news, and she’d have to explain why she was working with Lucan when the university supported the governor.
“Oh God,” she said, throwing herself onto a recliner.
“You should eat something,” Earl said.
“I’m not hungry anymore, Earl.”<
br />
“I have instructions to take you to your apartment. Then we’ve got work to do. But we’ve got to lay low until boss gives his speech.”
“Speech?”
“Celesse let me read the rough draft,” Earl said, rubbing his hands together. “He’s going hard after the governor. Kicking the old salt while he’s down, as they would say.”
“He can’t stop thinking about himself for one minute, can he?” Miri asked.
Earl jangled his keys. “I know it’s rough, Miss, but I guess I should’ve warned you about Mr. Grimoire.”
“Warned me about what?”
“Drama suits him.”
XXIII
Dark screamed as he banged himself against a metal grill.
He was in a shadowed room and couldn’t tell where he was.
How long had he thrown himself against the darkness?
Hours, maybe. But there was no light, no sun in the sky for him to track, no moon for him to divine. Just a large skylight in the ceiling that showed neither the moon nor stars.
For the second time, he had awakened in a strange place. He was tired, bone-weakened and sore, but he had no patience for sleep. His father had always told him, Never go to sleep in a strange land. You may not like where you wake up.
He squinted at his surroundings. His left eye socket stung. He brought his fingers to it and noticed that he was wearing a black eye patch. He tried to remove it but a magical vibration hummed through his head—it wasn’t going anywhere.
He could make out several shapes in the darkness, but he couldn’t tell what they were.
Was he in the northern mountains? A very cold breeze blew through the room, and it seemed to come from above, stopping and starting at intervals.
What kind of wind blew this way, steadily then not at all?
He must be in a cavern. Yes, a cavern bewitched by magic, perhaps made from the snow or the coldest fringes of the ocean.
He thought about his trips to the mountains as a young dragon. One in particular stood out. He strained to recall the freezing air that made ice crystals on his wings. He felt the cold snow against his claws, the heat of his and his mother’s fiery breath to keep them warm. There had been no prey in the Northern Territory, at least none that they could hunt easily. They’d had to feast the day before, relying on their strength to make it through. They had trekked to the summit of the topmost mountain, into a dark cavern where an old dragon—a stout Keeper—bowed to his mother, dipped his tail into the aquifer and grinned as he gave them vials of poison.
Old Dark (The Last Dragon Lord Book 1) Page 11
