Unexpected
Giddi’s throat choked up as Mazyka swooped through the sky, red hair streaming, those dark eyes thunderous. Her glorious golden dragon landed in the clearing and she slipped out of the saddle. Her grace hadn’t left her, even after all these years. His throat tightened further, stealing his breath as she strode toward him with her long legs, hair rippling in the breeze from dragon wingbeats.
His magic surged inside him.
Mazyka held up one of those metal tubular weapons and aimed straight at his groin.
He was so shocked, he could only stare as a tiny projectile flew from the barrel and pierced his thigh. Giddi flinched, staring at the fletched metal object protruding from his leg.
He looked back up to Mazyka and thundered, “What have you done?” He’d thought she still loved him. His knees buckled and his vision went black.
§
Mazyka grinned as Serana’s dragon landed behind her. She gestured Serana forward.
Serana joined her, staring down at Giddi. “So that’s my father?”
“It certainly is. And he hasn’t changed one bit.” She bent and pulled the tranquilizer dart out of Giddi’s thigh.
Surrounded by riders and warriors battling tharuks, she shrugged. “We may as well operate here.” She jerked her head at Giddi. “Let’s flip him on his front.” Serana helped Mazyka turn Giddi over.
Sure enough, there were puncture wounds with soft scabs in his naked back. “These look like methimium beetles, all right. Those shadows oozing from his back were a sure giveaway.” Mazyka took a surgical kit from the inside pocket of her coat and pulled latex gloves from the side pocket on her tailored combat pants. Not that gloves would make much difference here with so much dirt.
“Really, Mother?” Serana said. “It’s hardly a sterile operating environment.”
“Good habits die hard.” Biting her lip, Mazyka made quick, clean incisions around the wounds. “Hold the edges, please.”
Serana pulled the first wound apart so Mazyka could hunt down the burrowing microchip in Zens’ methimium arrowheads. Yellow crystal glinted way beneath Giddi’s skin. It was in deep, obviously days old. “Tweezers.”
Serana passed them.
Mazyka removed the methimium beetle. Tiny scraps of Giddi’s muscle clung to the barbed claws that propelled it through human tissue until it latched onto the nervous system to transmit Zens’ commands. “Although these are common where we’ve just come from, everybody here will think they’re magic.” She dropped the microchip into a tiny plastic receptacle on Serana’s palm, then removed the other two, closed the container and dropped it into her pocket. “These are still programmed to Zens’ transmitter, so we’d better keep them safe.”
Serana gazed around them. “So many dragons,” she said, scanning the sky.
“And from what I can tell, the dark ones have been created by Zens. Probably by cloning one of the royals, from the look of them.”
“Dragons have royalty here?”
Mazyka nodded. “I told you things are different in this world, but I think you’ll like it.”
A red dragon thudded to the earth nearby. A thin blue-eyed boy with a shock of dark hair was riding her. “What are you doing to the master mage?” he called out.
About time someone noticed. “I’ve drugged him so I can take out his methimium crystals. What I used is stronger than woozy weed, but only lasts a short while.” She asked a question of her own. “Do you have any piaua juice?”
The lad grinned and slid out of his saddle, carrying a waterskin over to Mazyka.
That was no good. “I don’t need water,” she snapped. “I asked for piaua.”
Serana rolled her eyes. “As if that legendary juice even exists. I’ve always doubted it.”
The boy said nothing. He knelt beside Giddi, placed the waterskin on the ground and dipped his finger into it. He dropped pale green juice into the wounds on Giddi’s back. His serious deep-blue eyes stared at Mazyka as the wounds’ edges knitted together. “Now I’ve seen to Master Giddi, I must go and heal others.” With that, he strode back to his ruby dragon.
Tiny glimmers of light danced along the dragon’s spinal ridges. Spangles? Mazyka couldn’t be sure. It had been so long since she’d seen them.
Giddi groaned.
“The tranquilizer’s wearing off. Get ready,” Mazyka murmured.
A grim smile on her face, Serana said, “I’ve been ready for years. It’s him you have to worry about.”
Giddi pushed himself to sit upright and scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Why did you shoot me?” He groaned. “Oh, my back’s burning.” Those infamously bushy eyebrows pulled low over his deep-set eyes, and he glared at Mazyka.
Still kneeling in the mud, Mazyka laughed. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
He shot her another glare. “And you’re just as much of a mystery as always.” Giddi tugged her onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her.
§
By the fire-spitting dragon gods, she was back. And she felt better in his arms than ever. Giddi pulled back to look into Mazyka’s eyes.
“Your kiss tastes exactly the same,” she said, cheekily tweaking him in the ribs.
“Do you think we’re still young spring chickens?” he said. “Carrying on like this?” And then he kissed her again.
Nearby, a woman laughed. He heard dragons landing, tharuks snarling, the battle raging around them, but he didn’t care. Giddi kept his eyes shut and enjoyed kissing his wife.
“Ahem.” Someone cleared their throat. “Master Giddi, if you don’t mind…”
Oh shards, that was Lars. He stopped kissing Mazyka. They scrambled to their feet. She smoothed her clothes. Giddi pulled on his shirt, jerkin and cloak, then stood there, holding her hand, not caring what the world thought. If they sent her back through the world gate, this time, he’d go with her.
Aidan stalked over to Lars. The battle master gave Mazyka a curt nod.
Lars folded his arms, his legs astride and planted firmly on the ground. “What’s the meaning of this?” he glowered at Mazyka. “You were banished years ago. If you hadn’t brought Zens into our realm, none of this would’ve happened.” He swept an arm around the clearing, indicating ash-coated bodies and smoldering dragons.
Giddi opened his mouth to speak, but of course, Mazyka, ever quick, answered first. “I can’t change the past, Master Lars, but I can help clean up.” She took a deep breath. “But before I do, I’d like my husband to meet his daughter, Serana.”
Giddi spluttered, staring at the girl before him. He should have realized they were related the first time he saw her: She was a blend of him and her—his hawk nose and Mazyka’s eyes and high cheekbones. Her hair took after Mazyka, too, as red as a blazing sunset. And with her slightly heavy brows and tall gangly frame, there was no mistaking that she was his daughter.
She hugged him.
Happiness welled inside Giddi’s chest, which threatened to explode.
“It’s about time we met.” Serana kissed him on the cheek. “Mom has told me so much about you.”
Aidan, the battle master, smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. “Too many have lost their families today. I’m pleased you found yours, Master Giddi.”
Lars’ face softened. He unfolded his arms and took a step toward Mazyka, holding out his hand. “So, Mazyka, how do you and Master Giddi propose we clean up?”
Mazyka shook his hand and swept her other arm at the sky. Dark dragons and dragons implanted with methimium were still fighting sea dragons, green and brown dragons, and the dragons of Dragons’ Realm.
Mazyka nodded at Serana.
Giddi still couldn’t get over the fact that he’d had a daughter all this time. Mazyka must’ve been pregnant when he’d closed the world gate. He shook his head. That made his actions even more despicable.
Serana put her fingers to her mouth and gave a piercing whistle.
Immediately, two small gold dragons arrowed toward the clearing, mag
es astride their backs. Mazyka gestured them over. The dragons strolled forward.
Such majestic small creatures. “How did you breed them?” Giddi asked Mazyka. She’d stolen a dragon egg—a secret that Giddi had never revealed. But, just like humans, it took two dragons to breed a clutch.
“Cloning,” she replied. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
Remembering Zens’ huge tanks, Giddi replied, “I think I already know.”
“We’re not here for a reunion,” snapped Lars. “This is war. Now that you’ve offered us help, what’s your plan?”
Mazyka grinned, calling to the mages on the golden dragons, “Bring a dead dark dragon down to this clearing. I want its body as meat for the others to feast on.”
The mages nodded and their dragons took to the sky.
“Lars, I need thirty riders with steady hands and good aim. Archers might be best.”
Lars nodded gruffly and hollered for some of the warriors fighting nearby to come over. He sent his dragon Singlar to battle tharuks in their stead.
Mazyka turned to their daughter. “Serana, pass them out the tranq guns and give them a run down on how to use them.”
“So you’re teaching our archers how to use those?” Giddi winced, rubbing his thigh.
Mazyka laughed.
Gods, it was good to have her back.
But although his wife was tempestuous, strong-willed, and just as good a mage as he was, Giddi couldn’t just let her take command. He was still Master Wizard and Leader of the Wizard Council. After years of not fulfilling the role, it was time to step into those shoes—with Mazyka at his side, if she was willing.
Master Giddi stretched out his mind, melding with all of the dark dragons still fighting in the skies. “Kill dark dragons.” He imitated the tone and feel of Zens’ thoughts. “Kill each other,” he snarled. “Kill.”
“Very clever,” said Mazyka. “I’m wondering why I didn’t think of it myself.”
Their gaze met. Giddi laughed. He felt light and carefree in a way he hadn’t for decades.
Aidan’s eyes flitted between them. “What? What is it?”
Mazyka gestured skyward. “Now that he’s been freed from the methimium’s sway, Giddi has set the dark dragons against themselves.” She dusted off her hands as her eyes flicked to Lars. “We should have this mess cleaned up soon.”
Above them, dark dragons turned away from battling those of Dragons’ Realm. They roared and snapped, their yellow-rayed eyes raking each other’s hides. Blood dripped from deep wounds. They flew at each other, wrapping their jaws around throats, gouging and shredding with talons, and engulfing one another in fire.
Two golden dragons winged down, carrying a dead dark dragon between them. The dragons let go and the beast plummeted to the earth, blood splattering the mangled melted metal of the methimium ray.
Mazyka gestured at the carcass.
“I suppose you want me to call our dragons currently controlled by methimium down here to feast so you can knock them out with those projectiles?” Giddi asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Same eyebrows. Same angle. Same stern look. You haven’t changed.” She grinned. “Tranquilizer darts, they’re called. Why don’t you call them now?”
Giddi stretched out his mind, calling only the methimium-controlled dragons of Dragons’ Realm. It was easy to tell them apart by the shadows wrapped around their minds.
They angled their wings and sped down to the clearing, the breeze from their wingbeats stirring the hair of the assembled council members and mages.
§
By the First Egg, Master Giddi had done it. As much as Lars had been annoyed to find Mazyka back, he had to give it to the mages—they had turned the tide of the war. Methimium-controlled red, green, blue, and brown dragons fought over the carcass of the shadow dragons in the clearing. They snarled and snapped at each other as they tore chunks of flesh from its body.
The archers were ranged around the carcass, their metal tubular weapons glinting as they took aim.
Tonio’s ruby dragon growled at a blue who tried to muscle in on her spot, baring her fangs.
“I guess Tonio didn’t make it,” Aidan said sadly.
“When I got my arm treated, the healers told me he died defending Marlies.” Lars flexed his forearm, glad they’d had to piaua to heal it. “But I haven’t seen Marlies.”
“Danika told me she went down in a blaze of flame.”
“That’ll be hard for Hans, Tomaaz, and Ezaara.” He swallowed. They’d only just found her again, to lose her so quickly. It was a sharding shame.
The archers squeezed levers—Mazyka called them triggers—on their tubular weapons. Short fletched projectiles hit the dragons’ haunches. Some flinched. Some went right on eating.
“Rather disgusting, don’t you think?” Singlar melded. “Such cannibalistic behavior.”
“Privately, I agree. But Mazyka says she can use the distraction to extract these methimium beetles. These dragons will be flying with us again soon, so we’d better not make our opinions known publicly,” Lars replied.
“You’re ever the consummate politician, Lars.” Singlar snorted. “I still think eating dragon flesh is revolting. Any dragon caught doing it—no matter the excuse—should be banished.”
“A lot of things have happened in this war due to Zens’ methimium. I think we should be glad that we’ve been spared and turn a blind eye, my friend.”
Singlar’s rumbling approval was comforting.
A blue dragon’s head slumped onto the dead carcass. Then that of a green. Soon a red was slumbering, and a brown. Antonika staggered on her feet, then curled up and tucked her head under her tail.
Mages on gold dragons landed in the clearing and dismounted. Each mage retrieved a small kit from Mazyka and crawled over a dragon, inspecting it for arrow wounds. They removed the burrowing crystals with metal implements and called for piaua to heal the wounds.
Lars sighed, tension ebbing out of his shoulders. “I’m glad we didn’t have to kill more of our own.” That had been the worst: watching their dragons turn on each other in a mad killing frenzy, seeing their blood on each other’s fangs and talons. Too many good dragons and riders had died today. Too many good friends, like Tonio and Marlies.
“It’s a relief,” said Aidan. “I was worrying about having to kill more of our dragons when we’d already lost so many.”
Lars nodded somberly. “It’s going to take a while to recover.” He glanced around the clearing. “Did you see what happened to Zens?”
Aidan’s startled glance said enough.
“Singlar,” Lars melded. “We have to hunt down Zens. Now.”
Singlar, busy trampling a tharuk, answered, “No, we don’t. Master Roberto and the Queen’s Rider are already on it.”
§
Kierion couldn’t believe it. All of a sudden, golden dragons were amid the battle, mages shooting blue fire from their fingertips at the fake mages upon the dark dragons’ backs. Every time the blue fire hit one of Zens’ mages, the fake mage disintegrated in a spray of ash.
Behind him, Fenni muttered, “By the holy mother of all dragon gods, what in flames name is that power?”
Ash floated in the air, coating their hair as they flew through it. “I have no idea,” Kierion said. “And who was that woman riding the giant golden dragon?”
“I think I can answer that,” said Fenni. “Mazyka, Master Giddi’s long-lost wife who opened the world gate years ago and let Zens in. She’s returned to help us.”
Riona roared, a tremor running through her body beneath them. And the golden dragons answered, opening their maws and shooting flame at dark dragons, setting the sky ablaze with color.
§
Once the dragons were knocked out, it didn’t take Mazyka, Serana, and their mages, who had all trained as medics on Earth, long to remove all the implants from the dragons’ hides and patch them up with piaua. By then, ash from the incinerated dark dragons and cloned mages was dri
fting through the air, coating the clearing and the unconscious dragons’ scales.
Mazyka straightened, rubbing her aching back. It had been a while since she’d had to work so arduously, and this was nothing like the surgical operating theaters back on Earth. But it was good to be home again. To see Giddi’s kind eyes. Hear his gruff humorous comments as he barked at young mages. It took her back to years ago, when she’d first met him.
A young blond mage with green eyes approached her. “Um.” He scratched his neck.
“I’m Mazyka.” She held her hand out. “How can I help?”
The man shook it. “I’m Fenni. I’ve always wanted to meet you.”
She frowned, perplexed. “Oh, ah, the pleasure is mine, I’m sure.”
Fenni glanced over to check Giddi was busy, then leaned in, whispering, “Anyone who has Giddi’s undying loyalty is a friend of mine. He never spoke of you, but we could all tell he still cared about you.” He blushed, cheeks cherry-red, and strode off. On his way back to the purple dragon and rider waiting for him, he spun and blasted a tharuk with a fireball.
Mazyka smiled. She’d guessed it, but it was still nice to hear that Giddi, with his fierce heart, had never stopped loving her.
Zens
“So, Master Roberto.” Zens spat the word master, as if it were dirty.
Roberto snorted. He’d more than earned the title, deserved it, despite everything Zens had done to break and corrupt him.
Zens’ powerful frame rocked with cold laughter—the insidious laughter Roberto hated. In Death Valley, he’d seen Zens laugh at people he’d tortured and slaughtered. At families he’d broken. At dragons who’d died at his whim. And Zens had laughed at Roberto when he’d been Zens’ captive, grooming him as his protégé, forcing him to murder dragon riders or watch Zens kill littlings.
Roberto’s anger roiled inside him.
A tharuk burst from the trees, the fur on its snout and face blackened. 000 snarled, prowling toward him. The largest of the tharuks, its body rippled with menace. It slashed its claws in the air. “Fight, coward!”
Roberto ran for 000, sword out.
He parried 000’s claws with his blade and ducked its swipes. Dancing around the enraged tharuk, Roberto darted in, striking its sides, back, and shoulders. Eventually the beast tired and stumbled.
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