The Dragon Rider (The Alaris Chronicles Book 2)

by Mike Shelton

  “Titus!” he shouted to the old wizard.

  Then Titus, despite his age and injury, jumped onto the back of the impostor, taking him to the floor mere inches in front of Bakari. The other two guards jumped in, but Titus held his ground.

  In those few, precious moments, Bakari took a deep breath and reached out to draw strength from Abylar, to tell Kharlia where to find the key and how to bring it to him, and to inform Roland, on the other side of the metal door, that he would be freed soon. With that done, Bakari stood back up to help the elderly wizard while awaiting Kharlia. Pushing a wall of air out against the two guards, he threw them down the hall, their heads hitting against stone walls.

  The impostor threw off Titus and the old wizard flew through the air. A sickening crack ensued when his head hit the stone wall. Bakari watched as the wizard’s limp body fell to the floor. “Titus?” he yelled, but there was no response. A puddle of blood began to pool around his head.

  Bakari turned back around and their attacker once again, changed his appearance, this time to a young woman not much older than Bakari. She stood still, tall and curvy, her brown hair hanging beautifully over her shoulders.

  Bakari hesitated for a moment.

  “My name is Celia,” said the now beautiful impostor. “Roland couldn’t keep his eyes off me either.” She reached her hand out and held on to Bakari’s arm.

  Bakari yelped in pain. His skin began to blacken, and his life force began to drain out of him. He drew some more of the dragon’s power into himself.

  Be careful, Dragon Rider, Abylar warned. I cannot get to you in the dungeons. Don’t draw too much power.

  Bakari used his other hand and put it on the young woman’s chest, pushing Celia back as hard as he could. She dragged Bakari down on top of her, but he scrambled out of her hold and then stood over her.

  “Bak!” Kharlia called from down the hall.

  Bakari turned Kharlia’s way and then looked back at the impostor, who once again shifted its shape.

  “Oh, Bak,” the impostor said. “Don’t hurt me.”

  Bakari stared in horror. She had now taken on the face of Kharlia. It was unnerving.

  “You can’t hurt me now, can you, oh mighty dragon rider?” the false Kharlia said.

  “He can’t, but I can,” the real Kharlia said. Running up next to the impostor Kharlia kicked her hard in the side of her head. “Stay away from him!”

  The kick surprised both Bakari and the impostor. The imposter’s eyes flashed yellow, and the face its face of Kharlia dropped away, revealing the visage of an ugly old man, his lips almost white and his cheeks sunken in. He held his hand up to his head and moaned.

  “Ah, your true face, I see,” Bakari said as he used his dragon’s power to quickly encircle the old man within a shield of air. Then he took the key from Kharlia and put it in the keyhole of the door.

  Nothing happened.

  Eryck stepped forward. “I’ve heard Titus say that it needs wizard power along with the key.”

  Bakari and Eryck both brought their power to bear and pushed it into the keyhole along with turning the key. Unlocked, the door swung open, allowing their mage lights to flood into the small room, dissipating the shadows inside.

  Then Bakari saw someone. Sitting curled up in the corner, arms wrapped around his knees, was Roland. His wizard robes were tattered, and the floor was littered with magical artifacts. Their spells and magic filled the air, threatening to distract Bakari. His nose wrinkled in reaction to the odor of sickness and human waste.

  “Bak, is that you? Really you?” Roland’s face looked gaunt, and his eyes, wild and momentarily blinded.

  “Roland!” Bakari rushed in and fell down on his knees in front of his friend.

  Roland reached his arms around Bakari and hugged him fiercely, sobbing, his tears streaming down his dirty face. “Oh, Bak, you heard me. You actually heard me!”

  Eryck came in behind Bakari. “We should get him out of this room.” He touched Bakari on his back.

  Bakari nodded. Reaching over to Roland, Bakari took his hands and pulled Roland up with him. Then, with one arm around his friend, Bakari led him out of the cursed room.

  After crossing the threshold, everyone looked relieved. Breathing deeply, Roland stood straighter. He then noticed the ugly old man sitting on the floor.

  “You?” Roland seemed surprised.

  The old man sneered. “Yes, me. Your whole lot of wizards are pathetic, Roland.”

  “You’re the one that looks pathetic to me,” Kharlia said and Roland snorted a small laugh.

  “What will you do with him, Roland?” Bakari asked.

  Roland’s glazed eyes glanced around the hallway for the first time. His attention turned to Titus, lying still on the floor among the guards, blood running along the stone. Sadness crept across his face.

  Roland then turned to look at Kharlia, who stood protectively close to Bakari.

  “What did you do to your hair, Bak?” Roland pointed. “Is this Kharlia’s doing?” Turning to the young woman, Roland bobbed his head to her. “Nice to see you again, Kharlia. Glad you are back with us. Bak needs someone to look after him. He’s always getting in trouble.”

  Bakari was happy to see that Roland still held a semblance of his old humor. Bakari glared at the impostor once again and then turned back to Roland with a questioning look.

  “The Chameleon,” whispered Roland to no one in particular.

  “An ancient, evil magic,” Eryck said.

  Roland looked directly into Bakari’s eyes, as if thinking over something in his own mind. Without any words of preamble, Roland knelt—one knee on the floor and no guile in his face—and gazed up at Bakari as he said, “Dragon Rider, I submit to your authority in this and all things from this time forth.”

  Kharlia put her hand over her mouth as she gasped.

  Bakari blinked and Roland gasped. “Your eyes, Bak…your irises are deep blue—the color of your dragon.” He bowed again.

  “Roland?” Bakari said. He couldn’t believe what his friend was doing. “Get up off the floor. You don’t need to bow to me!”

  Dragon Rider, Abylar said into his mind. It is your right. All will kneel to you in time.

  “This is not what I want,” Bakari voiced out loud and to Abylar.

  But it is what you are destined for, Abylar said.

  “But I do this, nonetheless,” Roland replied. “I can never repay you for what you have done today. You have no idea what I went through in there.”

  Bakari nodded, not yet sure of the portent of this moment. “Is that room totally secure?”

  “What do you think?” Roland snapped back, a little of his old arrogance returning. “Would I have called you here if it wasn’t?”

  Looking at the Chameleon, Bakari motioned for Eryck to pick him up. The imposter’s magic was spent for now it seemed. “Until we figure out a more permanent solution,” Bakari said, “this man will stay as you did, hidden and confined to this room.”

  The Chameleon seemed to blanch at this idea. “Nothing can hold my power, young wizard. And I am just one…soon there will be more.”

  “Shut up, old man!” Roland kicked him hard.

  “He will be guarded night and day by three guards that you personally trust,” Bakari said to Roland. “Food will be brought in, and waste brought out. But, any time the door is opened, no less than three wizards will be present to help watch over him.”

  “What about the artifacts?” Eryck asked.

  Roland gave the room a hard look. “Let them torture him as they tortured me. He deserves it.”

  Bakari nodded. “I see no harm in keeping him here for now. Though, once we have settled the dispute in Alaris, we will come back and try him for his crimes.”

  Eryck dragged the Chameleon into the dark room and threw him on the floor. As Bakari began to close the door, Roland took once last glance inside and then, with a determined look, turned away.

  Helping Roland back up the st
airs, Bakari asked Eryck that, after Eryck saw to himself, if he would organize the cleanup down below and that Titus would then be given a funeral with full honors for what he had done to help free Roland.

  Coming to Roland’s rooms, Kharlia opened the door and they entered.

  “Roland, take care,” Bakari said.

  “Leaving so soon?” Roland asked.

  “I must go south, to find another dragon rider,” Bakari said. “There is still much to do. Mericus rules in Corwan and desires to be the king. The Chief Judge still gathers followers to himself in Orr. And Onius is working with us, behind the scenes, to destroy Kanzar in Cassian.”

  “Nice to know the old counselor came to his senses.” Roland smiled, walking over to sit on the edge of a chair. Servants began trying immediately to take off his dirtied clothes and bring him food.

  “Onius said hello and that he is sorry for any trouble he has caused you.”

  Roland waved his hand in the air. “No problem. I’m sure I’ve caused that old man more trouble than he’s caused me.”

  Bakari laughed. “That I am sure of.”

  “And, Bak…” Roland looked around him, waving away his servants for a moment before lowering his voice to say, “I can’t ever repay you for what you have done for me.” The old Roland twinkle came to his eyes once again as he added, “But don’t you ever tell anyone I cried on your shoulder.”

  Kharlia, who stood nearby, put a thin finger over her closed lips, her eyes bright with laughter. Bak laughed and then hugged Roland one last time before heading to the doorway.

  Bakari turned around one more time. “Oh, I almost forgot. Alli said hello, too.”

  Roland blushed and smiled. “What is that fetching battle wizard up to anyway?”

  Bak laughed out loud. “Oh, you know, taking as many enemies down as she can.”

  Roland sighed. “And she does it so beautifully, too.”

  Bakari and Kharlia left Roland’s rooms and went outside to find Abylar. He was finishing up another meal.

  Eating again? Bakari asked.

  Can’t eat too much, Dragon Rider, Abylar said. You never know when your next meal will be.

  I swear you have grown again. Bakari laughed and told Kharlia what was being discussed.

  Abylar puffed his chest out proudly. Climb on, Dragon Rider. We ride south, to the mountains of Quentis. The next dragon egg awaits us.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Bakari and Kharlia were enjoying their flight south, over the heartland of Alaris. Abylar had regained most of his earlier strength and flew with new determination now toward the mountains of Quentis.

  That night, they stopped and rested on the plains northeast of Targon. Early the next morning, they awoke and left because Bakari was feeling the pressure to hurry. Soon they were flying over the snowcapped mountains that formed the boundary between Alaris, Quentis, and South Solshi. A few clouds from an overnight storm lingered below them. But, atop Abylar, everything looked clear and blue.

  When Bakari saw a flat spot in a small valley between two peaks, it caught his attention, and he directed Abylar to land there. As they touched the ground, the light snow puffed up into the air around them.

  “It sure beats walking or riding a horse,” Kharlia said.

  Bakari and Abylar laughed, and the dragon gave off a snort of steam. It was colder up in the mountains, so Bakari wrapped an extra cloak around Kharlia. Roland had supplied them both with new clothes before they had left the Citadel, but Roland did not have much to protect them against the colder weather here.

  Bakari closed his eyes and tried to get a sense of his surroundings. Drawing upon his dragon’s magic, he sensed another dragon egg nearby. Opening his eyes, he pointed up into the rocks a few hundred feet higher than where they now stood.

  “We need to climb higher,” Bakari told Kharlia.

  “Up there?” Kharlia sighed deeply. “Well, let’s get started then.”

  They left Abylar to rest by a small stream as they began the hike up. Bakari enjoyed how the early morning sun broke through the clouds and began to warm the air, but the few inches of fresh snow covering the ground made the climbing feel strenuous. More than once, they hit a dead end and had to go back down and then try another path. What should have taken only a short time was turning into hours of climbing, and they both were becoming tired.

  Grabbing hold of another ledge, Bakari pushed Kharlia up in front of him as she climbed. Then he climbed up himself.

  “Hey, who are you?” a young man said, greeting them so suddenly that Bakari almost fell backward off the rock. But another youth, with long, dark hair hanging down his back in a ponytail, grabbed Bakari’s hand and steadied him.

  After gathering his breath, Bakari looked around briefly and then back at the two young men. “My name is Bakari, and this is Kharlia,” he finally said.

  They looked at him and Kharlia suspiciously. Then the one with the long, dark hair said, “My name is Jaimon Schafer, and this is Bug.”

  Kharlia gave Jaimon a questioning look.

  So Jaimon explained, “He used to like bugs when he was little.”

  Bug nodded and then turned red at receiving Kharlia’s attention.

  Bakari took a few steps in a circle and studied the ground. The two young men were watching him, but they seemed not quite sure what to say.

  Abylar, Bakari thought. I need your help finding the egg. I know it is close, but I can’t see over all these rocks.

  “Sir,” Jaimon said, “what are you looking for?”

  Before Bakari could answer, Abylar rose up in front of them, his bright blue scales reflecting the morning sunlight, his tail wrapping around the air behind him. Then his giant wings sent a gust of cold wind flowing over the four youths.

  Bug screamed, “What is that thing?” Then he went running back inside a nearby cave. But Jaimon had kept perfectly still, only moving his blue eyes to follow the path of the dragon.

  “He’s beautiful,” Jaimon said.

  “His name is Abylar,” Bakari said.

  “Bakari is a wizard,” added Kharlia, “and a dragon rider.”

  Jaimon stood quietly, but his eyes were intelligent and attentive.

  Getting down to business, Bakari said, “I am here to find a dragon egg.”

  Bug walked tentatively back out of the cave, his eyes as big as saucers. He motioned with his head to Jaimon, who looked over at Bug, then back to Bakari again.

  The egg is in the cave, Abylar told Bakari, flapping his wings around in excitement.

  “You’ve seen it already, haven’t you?” Bakari asked Jaimon.

  “But we didn’t touch it,” Bug said as he waved his skinny arms around. “I promise you, we didn’t.”

  Bakari smiled and motioned with his hand for the two young men to lead him and Kharlia to the egg. It was dark in the back of the cave, so Bakari held his hand out and created a flame to see by. Both Jaimon and Bug gazed at Bakari with apparent amazement. In the light of the flame, Bakari saw the egg, sitting on a small patch of straw at the back of the cave.

  “It grew since last night,” Jaimon said.

  Bakari nodded. He knew how fast the egg would grow right at the end, before the dragon was ready to come out. This egg wasn’t as big as Abylar’s had been, but it was still a good three feet taller than Bakari. He closed his eyes momentarily and reached his mind out to the egg. He sensed the dragon inside. It was almost time.

  “What are you two doing here?” Kharlia asked.

  Jaimon looked down as if embarrassed. “We were tending our flocks of sheep in the valley below and decided to climb up here for a better look. A sudden storm caught us here last night.”

  “I told you we shouldn’t have come here.” Bug butted in. “We are going to get in so much trouble.

  Looking at Jaimon, Bakari tried to make him and Bug feel more relaxed. Bakari laughed inside, remembering how he had been the first time he’d laid eyes on the Dragon Orb; and, being a wizard, he had already wi
tnessed many marvelous things. But these two, Bakari surmised, were quite a bit out of their element here. There was no magic power coming from either one of them, but there was something special about one of them.

  “Jaimon,” Bakari said, turning to the seemingly more mature of the two. “Touch the egg, please.”

  Jaimon’s eyes opened wide, and he glanced at his friend. Bug shook his head back and forth at Jaimon, telling him not to, but Jaimon seemed calm and took a step forward.

  “Go on,” Bakari said. There was a feeling of peace as Bakari looked from the egg to Jaimon. He was young and untrained, but he was the one the egg had chosen. The thought had come quickly to him, and he felt it as true. Not all dragon riders had to be wizards.

  Bakari felt Kharlia grab his hand and heard her whisper, “Is this how it was with you?” Then she leaned in next to him.

  “Yes,” Bakari said quietly. “Except I am a wizard, too, so I think I could feel more of the power.”

  “Feel anything yet?” Bakari asked Jaimon as he walked toward the egg.

  Jaimon shook his head but continued walking.

  Bakari held his breath tight inside him. A third dragon!

  Reaching the egg, Jaimon turned his head and, with a quick gaze, took in each person’s face. Turning back to the egg, he reached his hand out and touched the solid surface. A bright light flared out from this egg, as it had with the two previous eggs for Bakari and Breelyn.

  Jaimon gasped and then said, “It’s a dragon.” Inside the egg, the shadowy outline of a dragon became apparent to the small group.

  Bakari smiled. This was the third dragon egg he had seen in the last few months. And there would be two more, if the old king was right: one, just across the border of Alaris, in Turg; and the other, farther north, in the Realm.

  Keeping his hand on the egg, Jaimon closed his eyes briefly. Then he opened them, and, as he slowly backed up, the egg began to crack. Thousands of small pieces of shell fell from the egg, and then a small, green dragon stumbled forward.

  The dragon gave a loud squawk, which was answered back by Abylar’s mighty roar from outside the cave’s entrance. The young dragon stretched its wings out a dozen feet to either side and took a few hesitant steps. Its neck moved around, and then its giant head settled on Jaimon. The young man took a step forward and extended his hand tentatively to the new creature, touching the deep green scales.