By controlling the mage, that power would be his. He stared down his malformed nose at Giddi, probing his helpless mind with his own.
The methimium beetles had bored through the mage’s muscle. They’d keep boring until they connected with his central nervous system, allowing Zens to take control of the mage’s mind permanently. He snapped his fingers at 000. “Bring the slave in for the mage’s test.”
000 was soon back with a hunched elderly man covered in methimium dust. “This miner hurt his hand yesterday. He’s useless now.”
Indeed. The miner’s wrist was bent at an odd angle, probably broken. Zens snorted at the pathetic human. Then smiled. “Excellent choice, 000.”
000 stalked to the drawer where it kept a set of torture implements—just in case someone needed persuasion.
“Not now, my pet. Today, I want you to watch and learn.”
On the benchtop, the master mage was lying peacefully, staring at the ceiling.
Zens released his shackles. “Master Giddi, it’s time to rise.”
And rise he did. The methimium beetle saw to that. The smirk grew on Zens’ face as the most powerful mage in all of Dragons’ Realm rolled off the bed and stood next to the table.
“Good morning, my beloved Commander Zens,” Giddi said. “How may I help you?”
A thrill ran through Zens. He flexed his fingers. Oh, it felt good to be in control. He waved a languid hand at the numlocked slave. It was a shame the wretch was too drugged to know what was going on. “Please kill him.”
Without a blink of an eye, Master Giddi stretched forth his hand. A bolt of mage fire slammed into the old man’s chest. He screamed and writhed on the stone floor as his body was engulfed in fire.
Zens took a deep, slow breath through his nostrils, inhaling the satisfying stench of burning human flesh.
As cool as an ice-laden pond, Master Giddi raised an eyebrow. “What would you have me do next, sir?”
“Bring another slave,” Zens barked at 000.
000 carried a young, shirtless boy—eyes shining bright with fever—into the lab and dumped him on the floor. The weakling gasped, his skin sucking up under his bony ribcage every time he breathed.
Zens slipped into Giddi’s mind. “Kill him now.”
This time, when the mage stretched forth his hand, frost coated the boy’s feet. It moved up his legs and encased his torso and arms. Through the thin layer of frost, the boy’s torso took on a bluish-gray tinge. The boy whimpered, but it was too late. The frost crept up his neck, over his face, until his hair was stiff with it.
The frost thickened into ice. The boy stopped breathing. His eyes rolled back in his head. He fell to the stone floor, ice shattering around his dead body.
“He’s dead. What would you like me to do next?”
This mage was powerful. Stronger than Zens had realized. He’d turn this power to his advantage… “Excellent. 000 will teach you everything we know about creating clones. You will work for me. Understood?”
“That will be interesting. I thank you for this opportunity, Commander.” The mage’s voice seemed genuinely friendly.
Warmth stole across Zens’ chest, making him gasp. He’d only ever had that feeling with 000. He clamped it down, stowing his memory of 000’s creation deep at the back of his mind so the mage couldn’t access it.
“Let’s get started,” the master mage said. “We’ll need more of these mages if we’re to conquer Dragons’ Realm.”
Zens rubbed his hands together, grinning. The dragon mage—the man who’d trapped him here in this world—was now his.
§
It had been an interesting few days, learning how to ‘clone’ mages. The process had involved all sorts of contraptions that Giddi didn’t fully understand, but his part had been simple: taking what Zens called ‘tissue samples’ and putting them through various procedures before finally placing them in tanks of solution. Then Zens added an ‘accelerant’. Within hours, tiny bodies formed, growing over days into full-sized versions of Sorcha and Velrama.
Today, Giddi had hauled those same mages out of the tanks. Tharuks helped the mages out of the clear membranes around their bodies and taught them how to flex their limbs, bend, and even walk. They were fast learners. Within an hour, all of them had mounted dark dragons under Zens’ beaming gaze. Now they were waiting in a tunnel beyond Zens’ main workroom.
In the main, larger chamber, tharuks worked around the clock. Luckily his own activities in the antechamber were restricted to a few hours a day, due to the lack of glass tanks for growing mages.
Giddi was exhausted. The food in Death Valley consisted of stale bread and thin gruel that did little to quench his hunger—a far cry from his favorite: wizard porridge. He couldn’t wait for the tharuks to raid Dragons’ Realm again and bring back decent spoils. As he passed Zens’ workbench, something flashed in the yellow glare of the methimium-powered lights. Something familiar.
Giddi moved closer. His heart battered against his ribcage. He reached for the teardrop-shaped crystal necklace and held it up. Suspended on a fine chain, it swung, glimmering in the light.
He’d had a similar necklace, but lost his years ago. Memories flooded him.
Anakisha had made these necklaces to help rare couples who could mind-meld to maintain contact over long distances. Back then, only a few couples had been able to mind-meld: he and Mazyka; Anakisha and Yanir; Hans and Marlies; and now, Roberto and Ezaara. How had this precious treasure fallen into Zens’ hands?
He doubted his new master knew how to use it. Perhaps he’d show Commander Zens when he returned from teaching the cloned mages how to fly their new dragons. Giddi slipped the necklace over his head and then tucked the crystal under his clothing. It vibrated against his chest—the same comforting, reassuring vibration that had helped him mind-meld with Mazyka when she’d first gone through the world gate, years ago.
Dark shadows whispered in his mind, “There’s no point thinking about the past. Zens is the future.”
Yes, they were right. He’d use the power of Anakisha’s necklace to aid his new master.
Seasick
Dragons thudded to the deck behind her, but Adelina had no time to look. The gap between their ship and the Bloody Cutlasses’ was narrowing fast. The Bloody Cutlasses’ mainsail was blackened and scorched, but the damage was only superficial, curse it. The rest of the sail caught the wind and strained at the rigging. Sea spray showered the bowsprit as the ship plowed through the brine alongside them.
Something thudded against the foremast behind Adelina. She spun as a grappling hook whipped through the air. She twisted out the way and it caught on the railing. Ropes flew and more hooks caught on the railings. One hit a ship hand in the head. He sprawled on the deck, unconscious. No time for that now. Pirates were scrambling along the ropes, curved blades in their teeth.
Adelina swung her sword over the edge of the railing. Her blade thunked off the sea-soaked rope. She slashed again and again, but her blade kept sliding off. The rope went taut as a leering pirate seethed across it, making his way toward her.
There was only one thing for it. She hooked her legs around a sturdy piece of timber and leaned out over the edge of the ship, sawing at the rope with her dagger. A thread gave. Then another.
Blade glinting in his teeth, the pirate growled, scrambling faster along the rope. Adelina sawed, arms aching and legs trembling as the sea pitched below her. She clamped down on her roiling stomach but nausea washed through her. Oh gods, this was how Kierion must’ve felt. Flaming arrows zipped in both directions. The rope sagged as the pirate neared, now only a few body lengths away.
Frantically, Adelina thrust her dagger back and forth. Just a few more cuts.
A piece of rope gave. The pirate’s eyes widened. He lunged up. The ship pitched. Adelina’s stomach heaved and she vomited.
Spew hit the pirate’s face. Yelling, he let go to bat at his eyes—and plunged into the sea.
Heart pounding, Adelin
a hung onto the railing. Then she snatched her sword and smote the rope, cutting it free. It fell into the sea, and she shimmied back onto the deck.
Beside her, Captain’s crew were firing arrows and cutting ropes, but several Bloody Cutlasses had made it on board. Roberto was fighting a pirate with a scraggly brown mane. Erob bit another and tossed him into the ocean. Flaming arrows rained down, thudding into shields. Adelina grabbed a pail and doused a small fire on the deck.
Strong arms snatched her, lifting her off the ground.
“A fine little bit of girly here,” a voice growled, the stench of foul breath wafting over her. “I like ’em extra young, I do.”
She slashed down with her dagger, scoring the pirate’s thigh. In a spray of blood, he dropped, screaming. Adelina spun and drove her dagger into his groin. A sword slashed past her, plunging into the pirate’s heart.
Roberto flashed her a grimace, then spun to parry the blade of another pirate.
Fires sprang up on the deck around them, as the crew fought the Bloody Cutlasses. Riona dived, purple scales whipping through the air. Holding the bottom half of a weapon chest, Riona dunked it in the sea and returned to tip water over the flaming topsail, helping Fenni, up in the tops, to douse the fire. Again, she filled the chest and poured water over the fires on deck.
Fenni lobbed fireballs at pirates and waved his hands to quench new fires in the rigging and springing up on deck. Suddenly, he flung up his hand. The railing grew slick with ice. Vertical icicles grew from the railing, spiking into the air and growing as high as Adelina’s head. Then higher. They coalesced. A thick ice wall sprang between the Roaring Dragon and the pirate ship, making everything appear murky and distant. Fireballs and the flaming arrows thudded into it and died.
“Man the oars,” the Captain bellowed.
As the crew rushed below deck to row, the captain, the dragons, and Roberto turfed the dead pirates overboard. “Thank the Egg the Scarlet Hand wasn’t on board that ship,” Captain muttered as they carried a corpse to the other non-icey railing.
Fenni stayed put, keeping the ice shield intact, forehead dripping sweat and body trembling.
Lovina rushed up to Adelina, holding a bloody sword. “I killed a pirate,” she crowed, eyes gleaming with triumph. “After all those years of being beaten and hurt, I finally fought back.”
Adelina hugged her.
Above in the tops, Fenni slumped over the edge of the crow’s nest. The ice wall shattered and crashed into the sea.
Adelina and Lovina watched as the Roaring Dragon pulled away from the Bloody Cutlasses, leaving the pirates’ masts on fire and their scorched, tattered sails fluttering in the wind.
Snowbound
On the third day flying north-east upon Esina, Leah, and Taliesin hit a heavy snowstorm. After clinging to the dragon’s back with their cloaks bunched around them and limbs shivering, they found a cave high in the Northern Alps and sheltered overnight.
“How far to the brown guards?” asked Leah, prodding their fire with a stick.
Taliesin turned the haunch of mountain goat that Esina had killed for them on its spit.
It certainly was handy traveling with a dragon who could catch your dinner and then light a fire to cook it. Leah edged closer to the crackling flame, holding out her hands to warm them.
“Only half a day from here, when the storm stops,” Taliesin replied.
When the storm stopped.
It could be days before they could fly farther. And when they did, would they find another grove of desecrated piaua and more death and desolation? Or would their luck finally change? Leah kept that slim hope stoked inside her as the goat’s fat dripped, hissing, into the fire.
Porcelain Treasure
Yesterday had been a long day, but after repairing the rigging and sails, the Roaring Dragon had made good speed. They’d be on land soon. Roberto’s gut tightened. He’d been dreading this since they’d embarked upon the ship—today he’d comb through tunnels with his father, hunting tharuks and revisiting the very place where his father had sold him to the enemy.
Nearby, Adelina was sharpening her sword on a whetstone. Her eyes met his, mouth grim. She gave a terse nod.
Only she knew how he felt. Although she still hadn’t spoken to him, at least her nod was something.
A heavy hand fell upon his shoulder. Roberto turned. The captain gave a command. “Step into my cabin, Master Roberto.”
“Yes, Captain.” They’d developed a mutual accord, not complete trust, but a good working relationship. Roberto followed him.
“We’ll be disembarking soon,” the captain said. “I suggest your dragons fly inland now.”
“Erob, take the others and meet us near Death Valley, but be careful. Don’t get hurt.”
Erob snorted. “Make sure you take your own advice. All of us would like our riders intact, thank you.” His dragon shared a glimpse of the sea beneath him, orange and purple wings flashing to either side of him as the dragons departed.
Captain shut the door behind them and gestured Roberto to a red velvet-covered chair at a highly-polished table with fancy curved legs. The tabletop was inlaid with beautiful wood of various shades and grains, in the shape of sea dragons. Strange—Roberto hadn’t picked Captain as someone who liked pretty things.
Captain paced to an ornately-carved wooden cabinet. Behind the cabinet’s glass were porcelain cups, ranging from dainty to tankard-sized, each decorated with various dragon motifs—all different. “Did I ever tell you about the time Old Blood-eye knocked on my door?”
Captain knew full well he hadn’t. Roberto shook his head.
Captain poured him a cup of tea out of a porcelain teapot painted with blue and green dragons flying over a vast ocean rippling with multi-hued fish. He passed Roberto a teacup that was also painted with green dragons wheeling in midair over an ocean—Naobian green guards, by the look of them. Captain’s own cup was covered in fire-breathing dragons, fighting. Roberto had to refrain from gaping. It was ludicrous to see a collection this beautiful here, in the middle of the sea surrounded by rough tattooed pirates with nose rings, scars and belly piercings. He accepted the cup and leaned back in his chair. “Thank you, this’ll probably be my last tea in a while.” Inhaling, he asked, “Peppermint or spearmint?”
“Keen nose. Try it and see.” Captain barked one of his laughs and took a delicate sip, holding his cup as if it would shatter. “Anyway, back to my tale. Captain Blood-eye had been my foe for years. He’d even set one of my ships on fire, back in the days when I had a fleet. One day, he stole onto my ship and knocked at my cabin door. It was all I could do not to run a sword through him.” He took a sip of tea, his keen eyes peering at Roberto over the top of the flames on his cup. “He stopped me by saying he knew the whereabouts of something precious to me. Something I’d want above all else, if I knew what it was.”
Captain ran a finger around the top of his teacup, eyes distant. “He begged for an audience. But I told him I’d rather feed him to the sharks than listen to his words. I had him whipped and locked in the brig. Even locked up and bleeding, he yammered at my crew, telling them he had to talk to me.”
“Sounds persistent.” Roberto chuckled, but his laughter died on his lips at the serious expression in Captain’s eyes. He took another sip of tea.
Captain swirled his cup, lost in thought. At long last, he spoke. “The Scarlet Hand and his Bloody Cutlasses had taken my wife and littlings.”
Roberto raised an eyebrow, unaware that the captain even had littlings—or a wife.
“I’d kept their identities and location secret. Well, so I thought, but one of my ex-mates had betrayed me, selling their names and whereabouts to the Scarlet Hand for a sack of golden dragon heads, so he could buy his own ship. After days of pleading, Blood-eye convinced Nod, my first mate, that I’d regret it if I didn’t hear him out.” The captain fell silent, sipping his tea. When his tea was finished, he set it down, examining the flaming dragons.
Captai
n looked up. “By the time I listened to Blood-eye, it was too late, although I didn’t know it. Despite me treating him so badly, Blood-eye helped me scour the seas, looking for them, but my wife and littlings were dead. You see, the Scarlet Hand and the Bloody Cutlasses had taken Blood-eye’s family, years before—which is why he raged upon the Naobian Sea, inflicting pain and mayhem on everyone, vowing that if he ever came up against the Scarlet Hand he’d reward him with a slow torturous death.”
Captain traced a finger along a sea dragon’s tail on the pretty tabletop. “Captain Blood-eye was a good man who’d been dealt a bitter hand. In the end, after years of fighting the Cutlasses and losing a duel against the Scarlet Hand, Blood-eye died in my arms.”
Roberto placed his cup in its saucer, trying to hide his impatience. They must be nearing the pirate tunnel. He didn’t have time for reminiscing.
Captain poured them both another spearmint tea. Taking a sip, he continued his story. “You see, Master Roberto, Blood-eye did something important for me. After his death, I lost my lust for pirating. So did most of my crew. I became a trader and let my crew run my trading ship, while I traversed Dragons’ Realm until I came to Montanara. I ousted the weak leader of the Nightshaders but kept his gang, even the ones I wasn’t so keen on, including Brutus.” Captain chuckled. “I’m quite glad he got carried off by your lad’s dragon.”
What? “Which lad?”
“Brutus was trying to have a go at that girl with long blonde braids. The one Danion has Fenni spitting sparks about.”
Gret. “And what did they do?” He obviously hadn’t heard Kierion’s whole report. Then again, Kierion was notorious for secrets.
“Danion’s blue dragon carried Brutus off into Spanglewood forest and dropped him among tharuks—where he belonged.” The captain chortled. “Eventually, some of my pirating crew joined the Nightshaders. We had quite a tidy, if shady, business going.”
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