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American Dragons series Box Set

Page 74

by Aaron Crash


  He didn’t know what that meant. He floated down and set her on the ground next to the crushed mansion. The green light in her eyes winked away.

  Steven landed. The crackling and popping was getting louder. An intense heat washed over them. For Steven, it felt good. Sabina, though, was sweating and looked frazzled. They were going to have to finish this, fast, or find themselves trapped in a firestorm.

  “The yellow death!” Sabina called out.

  “What does that mean?” Steven asked. She’d been so specific about everything else—the traps, the insects, the monster bears—but what was she prophesizing now?

  The ground under Steven exploded. Dirt clouded the air and trees went toppling. The smoke from the growing forest fire obscured everything further.

  Something with claws, something long and big, grabbed him. It pulled him down into a pit of boiling mud, trees roots, and superheated rocks. It was part sauna, part grave.

  The cloyingly sweet, unmistakable stink of decay gagged him.

  He felt his strength wane. It was from a ShadowStrength spell, he knew it. He kicked with his huge dragon feet, but whatever had him wouldn’t let go. He went to grab it, reaching into the mud and muck, stones hissing against his scales. He felt something gooey and awful, then something rigid and ungiving. He found a skull, a dragon’s skull, and eyes, but the flesh was all wrong. He jammed his fingers into the eyes of the dragon clutching him. At the same time, he kicked upwards. He strained his wings, but he was so weak. The thing was draining him of strength. However, he finally pulled free.

  But only for a second.

  An undead dragon, rising from the ground, lurched forward and clamped its awful maw onto Steven’s tail. Golden scales, edged with black, covered parts of it, while rotted flesh covered the rest. The thing didn’t have wings—those had been cut off the creature—and most of its tail had rotted off, leaving only vertebrae. Its eyeballs had been destroyed, and they leaked down the thing’s face in awful tears. A crimson light burned in the sockets.

  The yellow death. This was the thing that Sabina had prophesized, though it was more of a golden color. It pulled Steven down into the grave with it. Only his top half remained out of the boiling mud pit.

  Steven felt more of his Animus sucked away, but it wasn’t from the yellow undead dragon. That zombie beast was a female, maybe one of Cassius Pine’s dead wives, but maybe not. She wasn’t draining him.

  Sabina let out a cry and crumpled to the ground, out, unconscious. She too must’ve had all her Animus sucked out of her.

  A heavily bearded silver dragon slithered across the top of the ruined mansion. His nostrils flared as he inhaled. “I enjoy the odor of the trees burning, but I also like the way you smell, Steven Drokharis. Orange blossoms and burning cedar. It is delicious. More so is your strength. It is mine now. Your Animus and your monkey bitch’s Animus. It is all mine now.”

  This wasn’t just a ShadowStrength spell, this was something more, that didn’t just attack his muscles, but his very soul. Sabina had already succumbed to the toxic magic. Could this be a new ability off the Path of the Mirror-Souled Dragon skill tree? Maybe the AnimusChain spell?

  Fighting rang out in the distance, to the east. The Onari Guard were leading the bears, wasps, and Dragonskins away from the mansion. Good.

  Mathaal, still an old man, limped out of the trees with Uchiko at his side. He shrugged off the black robe and stood there in a white gi. A blistering-hot breeze blew through his white beard. “Enough, Rahaab.”

  “Good morning.” Rahaab clenched a silver fist. Uchiko let out a shriek, her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, face in the dirt.

  Mathaal walked away from Uchiko’s body. Was she dead? Steven couldn’t tell.

  Old Matchstick gazed up at his brother. “It’s not morning yet, but still the darkest of nights. I’ve come to kill you. That was the plan. But now I see you, and I can’t. I could never. What we did to Icharaam was wrong. I can’t do the same to you.”

  Rahaab thundered laughter. “As if you could, Mathaal. You come to me as an ape, aged, failing. I was always the strongest of us.”

  “The strongest maybe,” Mathaal conceded. “And the most frightened.”

  “Yes, I was afraid!” Rahaab roared. “This Drokharis monkey, like his father, would tell the humans of us. He’d cast portal magic to explore the multiverse. Yes, Stefan was right to think this blue-green gem might be doomed by the pestilence of the humans. But he never saw the Zothoric. He didn’t understand the danger!”

  “Maybe he understood,” Mathaal said, lifting his face. “And maybe he thought we could fight them and end the threat. As Alpheros, we succumbed to the shadows of teeth and talons. But with the humans? With the Dragonsouls? It is a new age we find ourselves in. Seeing Steven’s courage and heart, I think now we might stand a chance.”

  “Then you must die,” Rahaab spat. “You, the Drokharis child, anyone who would invite our destruction.”

  Steven closed his eyes. Finally, without a doubt, he knew why his father and the entire Drokharis clan had been killed, murdered by Rahaab. Because Stefan Drokharis wanted to tell humans about the Dragonsouls, which would change everything, the very nature of the world.

  No longer would Dragonsouls hide among the humans. They would stand with the Homo sapiens against the Zothoric, if they ever came.

  Steven struggled, but he’d lost even his ability to keep his True Form. He shifted human and crawled from the pit.

  The undead dragon slammed her talons into his back legs, pinning him. Steven gritted his teeth against the pain. He had to shift back. He had to somehow get his Animus back. But how?

  The eastern sky was dark. And Steven truly believed he wouldn’t see the dawn.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  MOUSE STAGGERED AWAY from the living room. Rahaab had tortured her and then taken her Animus with some powerful spell that didn’t feel like ShadowStrength. Hell, probably no one on Earth knew what that ancient asshole could do. Then he’d left her. Where he’d gone, she didn’t know.

  But the forest was on fire, and she was weak, frightened, and so alone.

  She barely had enough strength to hold the Slayer Blade. She couldn’t turn into her True Form. She couldn’t even do a partial transformation.

  One of the Forty-seven would come and kill her. Or the forest fire would. Or one of the Trinity of Wives would come and Mouse would die alone.

  Always so small. Always unwanted. Always on the outside. Alcohol had fixed that for a long time, yet that had stopped working after a while. That was cruelest cut. To lose her best friend. To realize her best medicine no longer worked to ease her mind.

  Sabina’s prophecy had come true. Mouse was alone, and the world burned around her. A tree came tumbling down, crackling with fire.

  The boiling smoke stifled her. The heat on her human skin was unbearable, and she was sweating as she limped across the pine needles, trying to avoid the worst of the fires blistering the air around her.

  She’d been so stupid to go after Rahaab on her own. The Slayer Blade couldn’t kill him. Likely nothing could.

  Dragons roared above. She smelled cinnamon and knew that Aria was fighting above her, probably going up against Rahaab’s Trinity. How could Aria survive that?

  And Mouse was too weak to help her. She sobbed, and why not? She and her friends were going to die. She was tired of trying to be sarcastic and tough. The truth was, she was scared all the time and fragile. No, not just fragile, broken. She was sick to death of the constant battle and the eternal uncertainty of a Dragonsoul’s life. Let her die.

  She was a tiny naked woman, crying, alone in a forest of death and fire.

  “There she is!” a voice boomed.

  Priest, the leader of Rahaab’s Forty-seven, came dashing toward her, tail swirling, mouth open to reveal fangs and a forked tongue. In his hands was a lightning flail, crackling with life. Behind him were six of the Templar Knights.

  Mouse was too weak to fig
ht. She turned her back on them, clutched the Slayer Blade to her naked chest, and waited to die.

  And then a warm body took her in its arms. Mouse recognized Tessa’s smell and felt the comfort of her curves. Tessa loved to hug. More than that, Tessa loved her. She whispered, “I have you, Mouse. I have you. You’re not alone anymore.” Then she murmured, “Magica Cura.”

  Healed, but still empty of Animus, Mouse sobbed harder and dropped the Slayer Blade. She clung to Tessa even as the barista raised both of her guns. Those revolvers boomed over and over.

  Liam Strider, the Yellow Ronin, appeared as a thirty-foot-long dragon, rising into the air. He breathed out spears of lightning behind Mouse, helping Tessa to scatter the Templar Knights coming at them.

  Mouse watched as a dozen Dragonskins smashed into Liam, dropping him from the sky. They hit the ground, rolling through fire and toppling trees burning like great torches.

  Tessa had to step back, and Mouse went sprawling.

  From above, lightning flashed, and a scarlet figure soared over them, chased by two tremendous dark shapes. Mouse smelled cinnamon. Was Aria okay?

  The barista faced off with Priest, the lightning flail smashing against Tessa’s pink shield. She raised a gun and fired, but the hammer clicked down on a spent bullet.

  Liam was flinging off Dragonskins behind him, electrifying some, chomping down on others. He hurled golden Impetim missiles as he fought. He’d deal with them.

  Priest, though, was about to bash Tessa’s head off her shoulders.

  Tessa snarled. “You, fucker, are getting on my nerves.” She wrapped up the Dragonskin in a ball of pink light.

  He struck the sides, over and over, and then growled out, “Magica Incanto.”

  Damn, a Dragonskin casting that kind of spell. These Forty-seven fucktards were for real. The pink shield trapping him flashed off. Priest stomped forward, bringing the lightning flail around. His serpentine eyes targeted Tessa, who was pressing her speed loader into the cylinder of her Peacekeeper. She wouldn’t be fast enough.

  Good thing she wasn’t alone.

  Mouse snatched up the Slayer Blade and lunged forward, driving it through the heart of the priestly Dragonskin.

  His eyes went dark. His tongue lolled from his mouth. Pine cones popped as they exploded in the burning trees above them. One creaked and groaned as it came smashing down. It would kill Tessa.

  Mouse closed her eyes and felt the Animus strike her cells, and then she was growing, growing, growing, until she became an amber-colored dragon. She caught the burning tree and enjoyed the heat. She swept it down low and smacked away Dragonskins coming in. She was Babe Ruth, heavy on the babe, and it was batting practice.

  More Animus flooded into her.

  Aria was flung down on the ground. Her body rolled through the burning foliage, going from her True Form to Homo Draconis and then human. The fire could cook her to death. Two dragons filled the sky, Shamhat and Hwedo.

  The fire was bad enough that Tessa had been forced to create a shield bubble around herself. But the air inside would only last so long.

  Liam, free of the Templar Knights, picked up the pink sphere containing the barista and took to the air. “Mouse, grab Aria, and come with me.”

  Mouse left the Slayer Blade and flew above the trees and then back into the conflagration to scoop up Aria. She followed Liam, holding Tessa, to the south where rock spears broke from the earth and geysers spouted boiling water. The fire had crept close and the smoke was choking, blinding.

  Mouse soared higher, took in a breath of fresh air, made sure Aria got a dose of good oxygen, and then cast a healing spell on Aria. Battling the Dragonskins had given Mouse a ton of Animus. Those dicks were strong and tough, really tough. Aria let out a sigh to let her know she was alive, feeling better, and ready for round two.

  Mouse dipped back down.

  Being back with her girls, well, there was nothing better. And Mouse swore that she would never leave them again. Her days of the heroic self-sacrifice plays were over. She had too much to live for, and fuck it all, she was sick to death of feeling lonely.

  She swooped back down to see Liam and Tessa standing in a cathedral made of stone spires, too small for a dragon to enter. Only a human or Homo Draconis could fit inside.

  The Yellow Ronin and the barista motioned for her to follow and be quick about it.

  Mouse followed directions. She flew down and rolled Aria into the cathedral. Then Mouse shifted human and ran inside as well.

  Shamhat and Hwedo landed and shifted into their human form, both powerful and beautiful. The firelight flickered off Hwedo’s beautiful dark skin and her eyes flashed in fury. As for Shamhat, her skin looked like porcelain while her hair was the night itself.

  “You cannot hide from us!” Shamhat spat. “You will die. And then I will kill your Prime for murdering our sister.”

  Tessa stepped forward. “Blah, blah, blah. Villain stuff and more villain stuff. Whatever. Bitch, you’re going to have a hard time killing anyone where you’re going.”

  Mouse didn’t follow. What was happening?

  “Magica Porta!” Liam called out.

  “Magica Defensio!” Tessa followed.

  From behind Shamhat and Hwedo, a whirlpool of fire and flame erupted, spinning, whirling, becoming a circle with an empty eye of darkness.

  Tessa drove her pink shield into the two women, knocking them back into Liam’s portal. And with a wave of his hands, he closed it.

  Then he sank to his knees, gasping.

  “Where did you send them?” Aria asked. “I didn’t see land on the other side.”

  “I don’t know,” Liam wheezed. “But they aren’t on Earth anymore. At least not this version of Earth. I played spin the multiverse and sent them to ... who the fuck knows.”

  Mouse laughed at that. And then she went to Tessa for one last hug before they tore ass up to the mansion to help Steven finish off Rahaab.

  STEVEN TRIED TO GET his legs out of the talons of the undead dragon, but he was caught. And weak, so weak. He felt his consciousness draining. He was about to pass out. Sabina was already slumped down on the pine needles, and she wasn’t coming around. Uchiko hadn’t moved a muscle since Rahaab had torn the Animus out of her.

  The fire to the west was overtaking the house. Luckily, the fire to the east was being pushed farther east by the morning winds. Was the horizon getting brighter? Was dawn coming? Would they live to see it?

  Mathaal stood in his gi as a human looking up at his brother, a silver dragon sitting on Cassius Pine’s destroyed mansion. “Would you kill me now, Rahaab?” Mathaal asked. “You couldn’t before.”

  “You have brought death upon my doorstep,” Rahaab growled. “You have forced my hand. You have allied yourselves with the apes.”

  Mathaal laughed. “Yes, I have. When you took my mind, I lived as one. I ate peach cobbler. I was taken care of by a beautiful woman. I found a quiet peace among them, and I’m glad for it. My last days were nice. And this last night? It is as it should be. We are relics of the past, Rahaab. Let the future start today.”

  A ray of light broke over the eastern horizon and hit Mathaal. He glowed, throwing his arms out. “I can’t kill you, Rahaab, and yet you will die as a new day dawns.”

  Old Matchstick fell forward onto his knees, weaved, and hit the ground. Dead. He was gone. Steven could feel it.

  Chapter Thirty

  MATHAAL LAY MOTIONLESS on the ground. Steven felt power hit him, and for a second, he was blinded by the energy filling him.

  The undead dragon let out a choking, wet grunt, like its throat was filled with rotting mucus, and released Steven. It had to because everything had changed.

  Steven floated in the air, or was it at the center of the universe, with stars around him, nebulae, singularities, planets, all of creation, this reality and all realities. Steven’s wounds healed immediately.

  A voice filled his head. “Do what I could not, Steven.” For a second, Steven thought it
was his father’s. It sure sounded like him, and Stefan Drokharis had visited him before. But no, it was Mathaal. “I’m sorry I leave this last task to you. I couldn’t kill my brother. I love him, even now. Even now.”

  Then Steven understood what the old Alpheros had done. Mathaal had poured the very last of his life’s energy into Steven using a derivation of AnimusChain, a spell crafted on another planet a hundred thousand years ago. If not a million.

  Steven’s eyes flashed open, and he was back in his True From, a black dragon shining in the crimson light of the sunrise. He took in a breath, and he breathed in the smoke, the fire, the beauty of the world.

  “What is this?” Rahaab screamed. “What did Mathaal do?”

  “He left it up to me to end you,” Steven replied calmly. “You murdered my father. You want us to live in fear. But no more. I am the son of Stefan Drokharis, and I’ve come to bring revolution. You will not stop me!”

  Steven had enough Animus to completely power up DarkArmor, DragonStrength, SerpentGrace, ShadowStrength, and IonClaws. He shot away from the boiling mud grave and slammed into Rahaab, driving him off the mansion and into the outdoor living room on the western side, now a burning hell of trees and furniture.

  Steven raked his IonClaws across Rahaab’s snout. It was a mighty, slashing blow, and it knocked Rahaab back. The Alpheros’s skin remained intact; not even IonClaws could hurt him.

  Rahaab breathed out ChromaticFury. The world went silent for an instant, the air crisping with the power of something far hotter than flame. Steven rolled away from the ultimate Exhalant, crashing through a brick fireplace and into a burning tree. He was so armored, so full of power, the regular flame didn’t hurt.

  “Magica Defensio!” Steven cast the spell as Rahaab adjusted his breath. ChromaticFury struck his shield, blasting it away, but it gave Steven time to leap into the air.

  The undead dragon had crawled from the pit, and though it couldn’t fly—no wings—it could jump. It snagged Steven out of the sky.

 

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