BREAKER: MONSTER TAMER BOOK ONE

by Hooke, Isaac

  He glanced across at Gwen on Jayden’s back, and saw that she had assumed a different posture this time: she’d hooked her legs underneath the jagged protrusions on the underside of the wing stalks so that she could ride with her hands free and wield the bow.

  That was a good idea. He shifted to assume the same posture, sliding his armored legs between the gaps. It was almost a perfect fit.

  “My thighs aren’t going to get in the way of your flying, are they?” he asked.

  Abigail flexed her wings in a few tentative flaps. “Hardly notice it.”

  “Good. You guys really need to come up with some sort of dragon saddle, though.”

  “I don’t plan to make giving rides a common occurrence,” Abigail said. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” he told her.

  She started flapping those great wings, then bent her legs and shoved off. She plunged very slightly, but she increased the frequency of her motions; each time she pushed down with her wings, she gained altitude as if she were shoving the very air below her. He wasn’t entirely sure how dragon flight worked, but he suspected she probably was doing that very thing.

  He summoned Hastor and the black leaped off the western parapet. As promised, the guards left the dragon alone—Malem knew, because he momentarily switched to Hastor’s point of view to keep tabs on the beast.

  In a few moments, Hastor had joined them, and was flying at the side of the Metals.

  “Well, hello again, half dragons,” Hastor commented.

  “Hold your tongue, Black,” Jayden said. “Unless you’d like me to bite it off.”

  “I’d prefer if Abigail does the biting, please,” Hastor said.

  “If I did, there wouldn’t be anything left of your head,” Abigail said sweetly.

  “Ah, this is how it was meant to be,” Hastor said. “The powerful Night Dragon riding into battle at the side of the frail Metals, to bolster their limp ranks.” He glanced at Abigail again. “Did I mention I like the color of your scales?”

  All right, that’s enough Hastor, Malem sent.

  What, you’d deny a dragon a little pleasant flirting before what could be his last battle? the dragon replied.

  Malem allowed anger to flow down his link to the creature. You forget, she’s mine.

  Oh. Hastor paused. Yes. Another pause. Sorry, master. A few more seconds. She certainly has a fine curvature to her tail, though, you must admit. And such silvery smooth skin, and—

  Hastor!

  Sorry.

  Malem could still sense Felipe and Bounder in the keep’s stables behind him. He sent a final comforting vibe their way, then released the loyal pair from his service, as their link wouldn’t be of any use given how far away he would soon be. He did it partially to avoid the temptation of draining them of stamina; he was worried that in the heat of combat, he might accidentally drain them to their deaths. Abigail promised that the stable hand, a young half dragon named Illiad, would take good care of the animals until Malem returned.

  If I return, he reminded himself.

  He gazed at the passing city below. Those golden towers. Those diamond streets. Such great wealth. And yet it was all so ephemeral. None of it would last to the next world. The dragons couldn’t bring any of this with them to the Halls of the Slain when they expired.

  Soon the city was receding behind them.

  He felt the usual thrill of flight, tempered by the fear of plunging to his death that came with the immediacy of riding on a dragon’s back. But that fear was muted somewhat, because it was overwhelmed by the greater dread of the coming battle.

  He didn’t feel excitement of any sort for that battle. No, that was reserved for youths marching off to war for the first time. Youths who had never experienced the gut-wrenching horrors of combat. Where one small mistake could mean injury or certain death. Hell, he didn’t even have to make a mistake. He could do everything right, and a stray arrow could rip into his eye when he least expected it and kill him anyway. He’d never know what hit him.

  Yes, he wasn’t looking forward to this. But it needed to be done. Not for the people of Fallow Gate. He didn’t care about them. He didn’t have Abigail’s heart, and her compassion. No, he was only doing this for her. He wanted to ensure she got through this alive. And Gwen as well. He was willing to sacrifice Hastor, and all the other dragons, to achieve that end.

  I’m probably going to have to. Sacrifice Hastor, anyway.

  Those thoughts of battle must have trigged something in Balethorn, because he heard its vibrations above the sound of the wind and the loud flapping of Abigail’s wings. That resonating hum seemed to be calling out to him. Not with actual words, but more emotions and feelings. He thought it was begging for the blood of the silver dragon beneath him. It preferred blacks, according to Abigail, but apparently any dragon was good enough.

  He didn’t realize it, but he had instinctively wrapped his hands around the hilt, and he tightened his fingers now as he fought to keep the blade in its sheath.

  I can’t touch her. I won’t. She’s my mate.

  But the sword wouldn’t hear him.

  I HUNGER.

  There were definitely words, that time. They came not in his mind, but from some place beyond it—from the place where his soul was tethered.

  A huge platinum dragon unexpectedly came swooping down from above, startling him, and breaking the sword’s hold. He released the hilt in relief.

  What kind of weapon has Abigail cursed me with?

  She hadn’t been kidding when she told him he’d have to have a strong will to wield the blade.

  “Henry!” the prince told the dragon as it flew alongside. “You startled me.”

  Malem recognized the platinum as belonging to the initial group that had escorted them into the city.

  “What are you doing, my prince?” Henry said. “No departures are authorized at this hour.”

  “We’re going to war, Henry,” the prince said.

  “Jayden!” Abigail hissed in warning.

  “No, he deserves to know, Sister,” Jayden said. He returned his attention to Henry. “We go to war, regardless of whether Father and his council approve or not. We’ve sat idly by for too long. The people of Fallow’s Gate need us.”

  I like how he takes your words and pretends they’re his own, Malem told Abigail through their link. It was easier than trying to shout over the wind of their passage.

  He does that, she agreed.

  “You’re wrong,” Henry said. “They’ve fought by themselves well enough all this time. Do you truly seek a return to the time when humans hunted us? Sure, if we agree to join them we’ll become temporary allies, but what do you think will happen once the war is done? They’ll hunt us down, force us to wear collars again.”

  Abigail was the one who answered. “Not this time. We’ll make sure they understand our help comes with a price. That we can never be collared again. When the war is over, they’ll be too weak to mount any sort of assault against us.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Henry said. “Because we’ll be weak after the war, too.” He paused. “I’m going to have to report you, of course.”

  “Do what you have to do,” Jayden said.

  “I’ll give you a head start, naturally,” Henry said.

  “Thank you,” the prince told him.

  We already have one, Malem thought. But he wasn’t going to mention that. Not that the dragon would even hear his feeble voice above the wind.

  Henry turned away, and met another group of dragons that had been flying to intercept, and led them back to the keep.

  “At least he kept his word,” Fortus commented.

  “He always does,” Jayden said.

  Malem abruptly felt something unexpected.

  Something unsettling.

  Turn back, he sent to Abigail.

  The silver swiveled her slender neck toward him to look at him with those almond eyes. They seemed so much like her human eyes, just bigger. “Why?”<
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  I can feel the Darkness coming.

  38

  Malem suddenly understood why he had experienced that premonition of doom earlier.

  “You had a few days left, I thought?” Abigail said.

  It comes early.

  “I can’t turn back now,” she said. “We’re committed. But I can deposit you on the shoulder of the mountain below.”

  She lowered her wings to descend.

  He had a sudden thought. Something that could change everything.

  No wait. Keep going.

  He paused, not sure if he really wanted to go through with this. What he planned to do could sway the odds in their favor.

  Or kill them all.

  He made up his mind.

  I can use the Darkness against the army of the Black Sword.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  I am.

  He wasn’t, but he couldn’t tell her that or she’d certainly make him stay behind.

  The Darkness... he continued. I’m going to turn my greatest foe into an ally. This one time.

  She tilted her head so that she was looking directly at him. She switched to mental communication so that no one else could hear what she said next. I thought you couldn’t control it. If you make a mistake, the Darkness will kill you. Maybe I should set you down...

  He shut his eyes for a moment. If I make a mistake down there, I’m dead anyway. We all are. Even if we don’t, even if we do everything right, we could still die. You know how battle is fought.

  “Yes, I do,” she said, then switched to telepathy. Well, at least you’re honest. I expected something more cavalier, coming from you. Though I suppose the very act of trying to use this Darkness of yours as a weapon is a cavalier act in and of itself. I hope you know what you're doing.

  There’s nothing cavalier about where we now go, he sent grimly.

  Having second thoughts? she asked, picking up on his tone.

  Always do, before battle, he replied. I’m still not sure we’ll make much of a difference at Fallow Gate. It might already be too late. The city could have fallen since your scout reported in.

  If it has, we’ll turn back. If not, then we fight. To the death, if necessary.

  “To the death…” he said softly, though she couldn’t hear above the wind, no doubt.

  Death, he sent. An old friend of mine. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve faced it. Stared it in the eyes. And narrowly escaped with my life. He laughed sourly. Sorry. When I sense the Darkness coming, my mood often turns grim.

  The sword began to sing at his hip, but he ignored it.

  Don’t apologize, Abigail sent. My mood is grim, too. Perhaps our moods are feeding upon one another, as our pleasure does during sex.

  It’s possible, he agreed. I’ll try to clear my mind.

  He thought of a blank canvas, as he had often done in the past to fight off the fear that came with sitting alone in the night, waiting for the Darkness to rear its ugly head. It worked.

  At least until he decided he should probably warn Gwen: The Darkness comes.

  She glanced at him from Jayden’s back. What? Should we drop you off at the foothills below?

  No. I'm going to use the Dark against our enemies.

  She was quiet for several moments. Then: I like the way you think.

  He didn’t know what to say to that. Uh, thank you.

  You seem surprised.

  He chuckled softly in the wind, though of course she didn’t hear. I didn't expect you to agree. Not so quickly. Abigail tried to talk me out of it.

  I'm not Abigail.

  And so you’re not.

  They flew on in silence.

  Individual dragons began swooping down to tear away particularly large trees they spotted en route. They carried them in the huge claws of their rear hind legs.

  What are they doing? he asked Abigail.

  “Arming,” she said.

  The silver herself dove down and uprooted a tree for either leg.

  He finally spotted Fallow Gate in the distance. Outside its walls, abandoned orak tents covered the field in long swaths, along with burned-out cooking fires where the enemy host had made camp.

  As they got closer, he realized the city itself hadn’t yet fallen. The fighting was concentrated around the central keep, where most of the citizens had probably fled when the rest of the city fell.

  Black dragons dive bombed the keep’s towers and sprayed acid over the exteriors with each pass. Hordes of oraks were pressed up against the keep walls, their bodies bleeding into the surrounding streets. Oraks roamed freely among the many side streets beyond, pillaging the abandoned houses. A woman who had failed to escape to the keep was dragged naked and screaming from one such house by two oraks. Malem averted his eyes from the grisly sight that followed.

  The mages of Fallow Gate had managed to summon elementals: hulking creatures of rock, fire, ice and earth fought with the soldiers along the walls of the keep. The fire elementals were immune to the acid attacks of the black dragons, which passed right though them. Rock and earth elementals used their bodies to physically block any gaps in the keep’s walls.

  As he watched, part of the wall broke inward, becoming a rock elemental. It smashed the defenders inside, and allowed the oraks in the area to flood inside. No doubt it had been created by an orak mage. Or maybe a black dragon possessing earth magic.

  “That’s our target,” Abigail said. “Do you see the tents?”

  His eyes drifted toward the tents outside the city again, but he didn’t believe she was referring to those. He returned his attention to the city proper. There, on the eastern side, in a square located in the street opposite the keep, he discerned several more tents of similar design.

  I see them.

  “The biggest is the command post,” she continued. “The Black Sword will be there, guiding the assault. Surprise is on our side. If we’re lucky, our assault will kill the Black Sword before he or she realizes what has happened.”

  He smiled blackly. Cut off the head…

  The big tent in the middle of the others had open sides, but he couldn’t see underneath its eaves. Even so, he knew that if the Black Sword was present, that would be the most likely spot. Especially considering the orak couriers that were constantly streaming in and out.

  He unsheathed his blade and it began to hum eagerly.

  “Yes Balethorn, you will drink soon,” he assured the sword softly. He couldn’t hear his own words above the wind of his passage, but the blade seemed to, because it thrummed even louder.

  He felt a sudden urge to stab the sword downward and into Abigail’s back. He fought it off. Balethorn was hungry for dragon, and didn’t care at the moment if she was friend or foe.

  Two black dragons broke away from the city in mid-assault to intercept the incoming Metals. The sight of them distracted the sword, and Malem seized control, banishing the urge.

  Draw them off, Hastor, he ordered.

  Hastor, who remained unburdened by any trees, darted ahead, and flew slightly to the west to come at the incoming creatures from the flank. The confused blacks didn’t know what to make of this, seeming uncertain at first whether Hastor was friend or foe.

  Breathe some acid, let them know you’re not friendly.

  Hastor unleashed a stream of acid, hitting one of the blacks in the face. The stricken dragon shook off the impact, not damaged in the least, but it had the desired effect: the dragon immediately swerved to intercept. The other dragon, perhaps not wanting to face eight Metals alone, similarly turned to pursue Hastor.

  Three more dragons were turning around from their latest dive bomb attack to intercept, but the Metals were already crossing the broken walls that surrounded the city proper. The command tent was just ahead.

  Oraks on the streets below ran away when they spotted the Metals. A few of the iridescent dragons unleashed fire, setting them aflame.

  The Metals reached the command square and dove. They unleashed liquid f
lames at the target and dropped the trees in turn. The big missiles piled onto the burning main tent and the structured collapsed. Trunks splintered and cracked as they crushed whatever lay within; branches tore away and broke as they impaled the fabric and its occupants. Gurgled screams came from within. Some of the flames had hit other canopies, along with the dropped trees, and the fires were rapidly spreading throughout the remaining tents in the square.

  The Metals recovered from the dive and flew upward. Malem kept his legs firmly lodged between the wing stalks and Abigail’s back as the forces changed.

  Seven black dragons were fast incoming. The Metals tucked in their wings as they passed, dodging the blacks. The dragons exchanged blows, and on both sides underbellies were raked and wing membranes torn.

  A black dragon caught Melody by surprise from above, raking its claws across her back. It scored a lucky hit, and ripped open the lower part of her right wing. The beautiful white dragon screamed in agony as she lost altitude, plunging toward the Earth. She crushed a gable-roofed home when she impacted.

  Abigail started to turn, obviously intending to help her.

  “Leave her!” Jayden thundered. “She’s dead! Stick with the plan!”

  Abigail gritted her teeth and returned her attention to the fore. Malem couldn’t argue with the prince, the healer definitely looked dead—blood poured from her nostrils, ears, and eyes, marring her white scales.

  But then she stirred amid the rubble.

  Malem was about to alert Abigail, but two other black dragons were already landing on top of the poor white. Melody struggled groggily, trying to wrestle her opponents, but the fall had injured her severely. In only a few moments they had torn off her head.

  There goes our healer… right at the start of the battle, too.

  He closed his eyes and wished her spirit a good journey.

  The other Metals who survived that first run-in continued toward the keep; they flew around its length and unleashed flames down upon the oraks piled against its walls. The creatures were so tightly packed they couldn’t run anywhere when the liquid fire struck, and large swathes of them ignited.