Dragon Breeder 3

by Dante King

  Even as I gazed about, hefting my Chaos Spear in my hand, I saw that our foot soldiers were mopping up the last clusters of wildmen resistance.

  I saw the last of the wildmen overpowered and slain by Saya and Tamsin. Tamsin backhanded the final warrior through the air toward Saya, and the Amazonian blonde smashed the man away with her warhammer, batting him away like you might do a baseball so that he landed in a broken heap some fifty yards away.

  A cheer went up from the weary, battered, and bloody soldiers as the last of our foes was dispatched.

  I felt a swell of pride in my chest as I stood there with my squad in the mess of ruptured earth and spilled blood, tattered body parts and twisted corpses of friends and foes. The caravan was, basically, still intact—apart from the cart that had been flattened by that naked giant. Judging by the men and women extricating themselves from where they had been hiding under the wagons, most of the traveling merchants had survived.

  “All in all,” I said to Bjorn and Gabby, “I think we did ourselves proud. Showed grit and balls.”

  Gabby nodded once; his version of high-five. Bjorn grunted.

  “Speaking of b-b-balls,” Rupert said from behind us, “how about we take one of these home as a trophy?”

  I turned.

  Rupert had something long and floppy held above his head. It was about the length of a two-seater sofa and was bleeding from one end.

  “Is that… Is that a giant’s meat whistle?” I asked in a disbelieving voice.

  “Y-y-yes!” Rupert said triumphantly.

  “Good gods, man,” Bjorn said, shaking his head, “you cut off the poor fucker’s cock? You’ve got problems, my friend.”

  Gabby shook his head.

  “What?” Rupert said. “I thought w-w-we could get it stuffed and put it over the fireplace or something?”

  Bjorn barked a laugh. He stepped forward and clapped our friend on the shoulder so that the enormous severed pecker tumbled into the dust.

  “But we already have one massive knob at our place,” the half-Jotunn warrior said. “Why don’t we just stick you above the fireplace?”

  I laughed as Rupert leapt at Bjorn while Gabby watched on.

  A sudden rush of power unexpectedly charged through my body.

  Garth’s eager voice echoed through my head as this strange surging feeling of power ebbed away.

  “Yes, it is about time, Dad,” he said. “Looks like you can slip my power into a new slot now!”

  This was the wrong thing to hear from your offspring on so many levels that, for a moment, I simply went blank. Then, I replied, “Do me a favor and never word it like that again, will you?”

  I pulled Garth’s crystal from out of the neck of my brigandine and looked at the inventory. The young Pearl Dragon was right: I had a new available slot into which I could harness his power.

  Right Arm Slot: Garth (Offensive Spell: FORCEWAVE) – produces a concussive wave around the caster.

  “Wayne will have some catching up to do, if he wishes to be as powerful and as helpful a member of our team as me,” Garth said delightedly as the two of us thought about the uses of this spell.

  It wasn’t a boast. It wasn’t a dig at the other dragonling who was still back at the Seer’s orchard home. It was simply a statement made with a dragon’s characteristic matter-of-factness.

  Garth’s words got me thinking, despite the adrenaline that still coursed through my head and heart after the fight.

  It had been two months since we had dealt with Cade. Two whole months.

  The Overseer had been busy organizing our proposed venture into the Subterranean Realms. It was in this strange and foreboding place where we would hunt the crystals needed to house newborn dragons. There was also the matter of a special substance that would allow my seed to impregnate dragonmancers with dragonlings.

  I was eager to get started but I had also been appreciating the down time we had been granted by Sergeant Milena. I’d been dividing myself between my training, in which I had been making some good headway, and having some great sex with my expanding following of eager women.

  This downtime though, had not been without its worries.

  Wayne, the dragonling that I had sired with Elenari, wasn’t going so well without a crystal to hold him. Claire the Seer had said that he’d already been far too long without one, but, thankfully, Wayne appeared to be a tougher than average dragonling.

  I swallowed at the thought of the ailing dragonling. Any day now, the little guy was going to be in some serious trouble.

  There had even been an occasion when I had attempted to seek out the Subterranean Realms myself, only to have Claire stop me. That had been on a night when Wayne had been terribly weak. The Seer convinced me that I needed to be patient, however. She said that if I left, it would not bode well.

  After I had given her a rather explicit earful, she told me that, if the Overseer didn’t approve the campaign to find the crystals by the end of the week, that I had her blessing to go alone.

  That week was almost up.

  As my thoughts took a bit of a turn to Negative Town, a shadow flashed across the battlefield. Looking up, I saw that it was none other than Elenari. She was riding on her Emerald Dragon, Gharmon. Wayne was slung in a pouch across her chest. As they descended and came in to land, it became apparent that Wayne was not long for this world. He croaked a small welcome at Garth, who I’d let materialize next to me.

  “Elenari,” I said, “what are you—”

  Elenari cut me off with a gesture.

  ”The Overseer wishes to call a meeting, Mike,” she said, in the brisk manner that so reminded me of when we had first met in a Los Angeles back alley.

  “A meeting?” I asked, excitement trickling through my guts as I waved Penelope, Saya, and Tamsin over. “A meeting about what?”

  Elenari stroked Wayne’s head. “It’s happening,” she said. “We’ve finally been approved to enter the Subterranean Realms.”

  Chapter 3

  We flew back to the Drako Academy and the Crystal Spire like the wind that drives a storm. I led the way, flying at the tip of a V of five dragonmancers. Elenari and Saya soared along at Garth’s wingtips, while Tamsin and Penelope flew behind them.

  As was usual, our respective coteries would make their way back in a slower and less spectacular fashion. My squad, due to Gabby crashing their longship through a giant’s rib cage, would take the road back home, bolstering the numbers of the soldiers of the Academy who were also heading back.

  I was bent over Garth’s neck, tucked into his slipstream, my eyes fixed on the pin-sized Crystal Spire that had just emerged on the far horizon. My mind was curiously blank, considering the news that Elenari had delivered us. All that mattered now was returning to base and learning the Overseer’s plans, most especially her plan for me. I’d hear the words straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. Nothing else would suffice.

  With that in mind, on reaching the Academy, I pulled Garth up over the landing area in the middle bailey. It was here that dragonmancers usually landed. Having a general staging area allowed a clerk to record the comings and goings of the dragonriders a little more easily. This, in turn, meant that said clerk could inform higher ranking officers whether or not they had seen certain dragonmancers, and when.

  The four other dragonmancers pulled up in midair next to me.

  “What’s up, Mike Noctis?” Tamsin asked.

  “I’m going straight to see the Overseer.” I looked around at the quartet of dragonmancers. “I want to hear from her lips what the hell we’re doing and when we’re doing it. I’m sick of waiting. Sick of not knowing when I can start looking for the things that will save Wayne.”

  Elenari and Saya glanced at one another and then at me.

  “We’re coming too,” they both said at the same time, as I thought they would.

  I shook my head. “It’s okay, really. I can go this alone. I don’t know how much trouble I might bring down on myself show
ing up at her tower without a formal invitation, but I have to know what’s going on.”

  Elenari’s face was so set it may as well have been carved from marble.

  “We’re going with you, Mike,” she said. “Even if it’s just to stand at your back.”

  I nodded. I wouldn’t ever be ballsy enough to claim that I knew the workings of women, but I knew enough not to argue with that tone.

  “Very well,” Penelope said. Her voice, as usual, was reasonableness itself. “In that case, I will head back to the library. I would like to warn you though, Mike, that what you say is true. Turning up at the Overseer’s Tower without invitation is to invite the displeasure of Sergeant Milena and Lieutenant Kaleen.”

  I shrugged. I really, truly, did not care one bit about our superiors right now.

  Tamsin inclined her head and raised her spear.

  “I will get cleaned up, scrub my armor and weapons, and make ready for whatever comes next,” she said, her yellow eyes gleaming with anticipation. “If you require my help, Mike, I will be waiting.”

  I raised my hand at the two dragonmancers. “Well fought today,” I said. “You proved your worth ten times over. It was a joy to watch.”

  Penelope blushed navy and grinned shyly at me. Tamsin’s eyes narrowed delightedly, and she too smiled, a sharp white smile.

  “You weren’t so bad to watch yourself, Mike,” the hobgoblin said.

  Then, without another word, both she and Penelope dropped toward the ground on the backs of Fyzos and Glizbe.

  I turned Garth with a telepathic command and pointed the young Pearl Dragon’s snout toward the old, innocuous arsenal tower that stood at the back of the lesser used upper bailey.

  “Let’s go,” I said to Saya and Elenari.

  The two women nodded grimly, no trace of the smiles that had lit their faces after our recent victory.

  The old arsenal tower was where the Drako Academy’s armaments had once been stored, back when it was only a quarter or less of the size it was now. It stood like a broken, blackened finger at the very rear of the castle complex. It looked almost tumbledown in its appearance, though it was the quarters of the woman who ran the entire Academy: the Overseer. Not only that, but it was also where all meetings of the Martial Council were held.

  If the training circles, parade grounds, archery butts, and sparring arenas were the heart of the Drako Academy, then the unremarkable arsenal tower was the brain center.

  The tight, single dragon opening gaped in front of us as we approached the tower, yawning like a toothless mouth. Undeterred, I commanded Garth where I wanted to go, and the Pearl Dragon swooped through the opening like some breed of shimmering bat returning to its lair.

  It had been tight inside the cave when last I had visited the Overseer’s Tower with Lieutenant Kaleen. This time, with three dragonmancers inside the dragon hangar, it was even closer, but thanks to our scaly companions being on friendly terms, the jostling was pretty short-lived and didn’t result in any bloodshed.

  I dismounted first and quickly retracted Garth back into his crystal to make some space. Saya slid down from Scopula and did the same, while Elenari actually vanished Gharmon just before her claws hit stone. The elf landed like a cat, rolling across the cracked flagged floor and getting nimbly to her feet.

  “Follow me,” I said to the two women and led the way out of the dragon bay.

  As soon as we were through the dimly lit chamber, we came face to face with a trio of the Overseer’s private guards; the venerated and highly respected Overwatch Company. They were the women whose sole purpose was to see to the protection of the Overseer. They went where she went, shadowing her every move and vetting all those who came before her.

  The three women, with their slightly disquieting purple, almond-shaped eyes, and identical red hair, were dressed in identical uniforms. It was the livery of the Overwatch Company: breeches, shirts, and mail hauberks all in the same deep crimson color, with black velvet cloaks and black tabards with a silver vertically pupiled eye stitched onto the front.

  I was not much in the mood for being confronted, by friends or foes. I just wanted to get past or be brought before the Overseer so that I could ask the questions that burned in my mind like phosphoresce.

  “Oh, look,” I said, “it’s Hanson. Gone for a new haircut though, fellas, I see.”

  The three female Wind Nymphs did not get the reference. I doubted it would have bothered them even if they had. The foremost woman stepped forward, hand on her sword pommel, and smiled politely.

  “Dragonmancer Noctis,” she said in a level tone, “you are not expected.”

  “Oh, come on now,” I said. “All of us know that you guys saw us flying in from a mile away. You don’t become part of the Overwatch Company if you don’t have your head on a swivel at all times, I imagine.”

  The three women said nothing.

  “We may not be expected,” Elenari said, “but the only question you need to answer is this: are you going to let us through to see the Overseer?”

  The Wind Nymph at the front of the trio blinked thoughtfully a couple of times. I knew that they were sifting us for lies—for malicious intent. That was the unique skill of the Wind Nymphs; why it was only their race that made up the Overwatch Company. They had the ability to detect lies and sniff out hostility as unerringly as a bloodhound can scent drops of blood.

  “The Overseer knows that you are here,” the nymph at the front said abruptly. “We will take you to her. However, before we allow you to pass through into her chamber, we will have to look into your heart and into your mind once more. You are enigmatic, Michael Noctis. You are a hard man to read.”

  Without further ado, the three members of the Overwatch Company led Elenari, Saya, and me through the dark winding corridors of the old arsenal tower. The nymph who had done all the talking led the way, while the other two silent female guards walked on either side of us. The corridors were narrow, and this formation meant that we were tightly bunched. Glancing over my shoulder, and peering between Elenari and Saya’s head, I saw that two more guardswomen had fallen silently in behind us.

  Clearly, these women took the protection of the Overseer extremely seriously, if even dragonmancers were not beyond suspicion of betrayal.

  Through the bare utilitarian hallways, we went up the narrow staircase that ascended the tower proper. When we emerged from this skinny staircase, we found ourselves in the main reception area outside the chambers of the Overseer and the Martial Council.

  At least half a dozen more members of the Overwatch Guard stood in identical poses around the walls of this antechamber. All wore the same uniform. They all stood in matching attitudes of alertness, their left hands resting on the pommels of their swords.

  An outstretched hand from the lead nymph stopped our small escorted party in their tracks.

  “If you’re going to read me then read me,” I said brusquely, “but make it fast, please. The reason that I’ve turned up on the Overseer’s doorstep is because I need to see her urgently. Trust me, I can tell you I’m not here for the fun of it.”

  “We understand,” said the Wind Nymph in charge. She spoke in the reasonable, unhurried voice of the born mediator and bureaucrat. “Still though, we must inspect your innermost mind. We believe there is something pernicious inside of you, Dragonmancer Noctis.”

  I had no real idea what the woman was talking about. It was not until I spared a second and looked within myself, that I detected the potential problem. The emotion the Wind Nymphs were detecting was probably simmering, directionless rage. It was the fury I felt at the Overseer and the Martial Council. It was the resentment that I harbored, the resentment for the time it had taken for them to reach what I deemed a straightforward decision.

  It took a lot of willpower to force the emotion aside, but I did my best, making a concerted effort to calm myself.

  Almost at once, the face of the Wind Nymph in front of us cleared.

  “Ah, we see,” she
said softly. She glanced around at the other members of the Overwatch Company and nodded her head. “It was a pure and righteous anger. You may proceed, Michael Noctis, but allow us to counsel you. Try and keep a lid on that temper while in the presence of the Overseer, if you please.”

  I nodded curtly. Despite the calm and almost dreamy subcurrent the Wind Nymphs generated, clearly these warriors could throw down like fiends from hell, if it came to it. They weren’t dragonmancers, as far as I could tell, but they had their own kind of innate magic. And I knew that non-dragonmancers could be formidable if they possessed equipment enchanted with dragonblood, which no doubt these members of the Overwatch Company did.

  The lead guardswoman stood aside, and pushed the heavy, iron-shod door in front of me open. My companions and I walked inside.

  The Arthurian round table was just as I remembered it, as was the assembly of men and women gathered around it. The few particular faces that had stuck in my memory leapt out at me once more: the old guy with the salt and pepper mutton chops; the woman with the dangerously pretty smile, the waspish face, and the short, faded pink hair. Then, of course, there was the short guy with a spare tire around his midriff—the asshole who had suggested I could use an extensive probing and interrogation session at the hands of skilled torturers.

  The Overseer, once again, captured the eye in the same inexorable way that the fire draws the moth. She was clad in another simple dress today, sapphire blue instead of the emerald green that I had last seen her in. A russet fur draped her statuesque shoulder. Her bright green eyes were locked on my face. A curious and highly intelligent smile pulled at her lips.

  It was a disarming smile that snuffed out the last stubbornly burning flame of anger inside of me. I had still had half a mind to blow my top, even as I was stepping through the doorway of the chamber, but under that smile, I was suddenly turned to putty.

  “Dragonmancer Noctis,” she said in greeting, in a soft and beautiful voice that could have stopped a riot.