Fogo lowered his brows into a scowl. I cringed. What did that dragon have against me? He was much nicer when I was younger.
“He says you’re a weevil under his scales,” said Fyrian.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“Oh!” she cried. “I see strange movement half a mile down the road. It’s like the clouds of dust from a buffalo stampede, but without the buffalo.”
I relayed this message to Fogo, who perked up. Fyrian flew down next to the other dragon, blocking the road.
“They’ll stop as soon as they see us,” she said.
We climbed on her back and waited for King Magnar’s sisters to arrive. The road stretched for miles toward the west. It consisted of sand bricks and had a thin covering of dust from the eroded drylands, but there was no sign of any disturbance.
“Can you see anything yet?” asked Evolene.
I squinted. “No, but I trust Fyrian’s eyes.”
“They’re within firing range,” said Fyrian.
“Send them a warning,” I replied.
Both Fogo and Fyrian let out huge bursts of flames.
Low-pitched squeals filled the air. They sounded like a mixture of cow and pig. When the flames ended, black smoke rose from a spot twenty yards ahead, revealing a two-wheeled, open carriage pulled by a pair of peculiar creatures.
The one in front opened its mouth and reared. Its front was a strange mix of bull and antelope with the powerful hindquarters of a horse. On its head were two thick horns that curved backward, presumably for speed. Their eyes glowed like gas lamps and bloody foam spewed from their snouts.
“W-what’s around their heads?” whispered Evolene.
It was a bridle, but black smoke oozed from its metal parts.
“Some fairy artifact to make them invisible. Judging from the blood around their mouths, I’d say it pushed them to run faster than natural.” I peered into the carriage. “Where are the witches?”
Fyrian raised her head. “We can’t sense them anywhere.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I turned to Fogo. “Can you grab the carriage and teleport back to Mount Fornax?”
From the roadside, a jet of green liquid flew through the air. Both dragons let out massive plumes of flame, evaporating it into smoke.
“What was that?”
Fyrian roared. “Dragonsbane!”
“Can you create a barrier?” I asked.
“Only for one dragon.” Evolene raised her staff and made a thin bubble of yellow around us.
“Fogo,” I shouted. “Teleport out of the way. Evolene can protect Fyrian from the dragonsbane.”
The purple dragon disappeared and reappeared behind the carriage. Before he could wrap his tail around it, a jet of liquid dragonsbane shot at him. He disappeared again. Another jet of green surged toward us, but it splattered on Evolene’s barrier.
From above, Fogo let out a plume of flame, burning through the harnesses connecting the creatures to the carriage. They bolted around Fyrian and ran through the valley. Jets of green liquid squirted up from the ground toward Fogo, but he disappeared again.
“Can we do something about their invisibility enchantments?” I asked Evolene.
“I-I can’t perform any more magic,” she said. “The one-way barrier is difficult enough to maintain.”
“Get them!” I said to Fyrian.
“I don’t want to aim at the carriage, in case the hatchling is inside. Fire won’t hurt it, but falling wood might!”
By the time I blinked the light out of my eyes, they had disappeared.
“All right. Let’s take to the skies,” I said out loud. “We’ll get out of range of their attacks. That will free up Evolene to cancel out their invisibility enchantments.”
“Good idea!” Fyrian leaped up and flapped her wings, clearing several yards.
Once we’d reached an altitude high enough to avoid the jets of dragonsbane, Evolene leaned forward and pointed her staff at the carriage. I held onto her waist, keeping her steady.
Each time Fogo approached the carriage, a witch would shoot a jet of green liquid, and Evolene would blast her with magic.
“Why isn’t it working?” I asked.
Evolene made a pained noise in her throat. “I don’t know which invisibility enchantment they used!”
My nostrils flared. “Fyri, spray your venom.”
“W-what?”
“We’re running out of time. In less than an hour, the sleeping dragons will leave Mount Fornax, and how long will that hatchling survive without food?”
“A-all right.” Fyrian sounded hesitant, and my chest tightened. She was probably thinking about all the trouble burning the witches would cause. “We’re doing this to save the eggs and that poor hatchling.”
She sprayed out jets of greenish-yellow liquid, filling the air with its menthol scent. One of the witches from below shrieked.
“I can see them as outlines of drops,” Fyrian said. “What now?”
“Evolene, make my voice loud.”
She performed an enchantment on me. “Tug your ear when you want your voice to project.”
I pulled on my ear. “Witches of the Savannah Empire! You’re probably wondering about the substance coating your bodies.” I paused for effect. “Don’t try to clean it off with your magic. It’s highly flammable!”
“W-what do you want?” shouted a voice from below.
“Leave the eggs, and we’ll let you cross the border unharmed.”
“How can we trust you?” said the second voice.
“We’re tracking you through the liquid. It’s immune to your invisibility enchantment. We could burn you to death right now, but we’re giving you a chance to get away… but only if you leave the eggs.”
“All right!” shouted the first witch. “We’re going.”
“Make your dragonsbane visible and throw it against the nearest boulder.”
Moments later, two barrels rolled across the roadside. Fogo set them alight, and they evaporated into brown smoke.
“He says to let them go,” said Fyrian. “Burning them to death will only bring war to Steppe.”
My shoulders dropped with relief. He was right, but something still needed to be done about King Magnar. When Aunt Cendrilla returned from having the quadruplets, I would suggest she usurped him before he destroyed any other countries.
Fyrian landed and lay on her belly, low enough for Evolene and me to climb down.
Fogo landed beside us and peered into the open carriage. It contained a metal box with the smiling sun of the Savannah Empire. He wrapped his tail around the vehicle and was about to leave, when I said, “Wait!”
He scowled down at me as if to ask me what was wrong this time.
“I didn’t want to say this in front of the sleeping dragons, in case it riled them enough to break through the wards.”
His brows rose.
“One of the eggs hatched. We don’t know when, but I doubt that those two witches know how to feed a hatchling.”
“He wants you to open the trunk,” said Fyrian.
I flipped it open to find a scaleless creature whimpering and shivering within a broken eggshell. Its skeleton protruded through skin as thin and pale and brittle as paper, with wing bones as delicate as spokes on a parasol. My hand clapped over my mouth at the sight. This was the first time I’d seen a hatchling, and it reminded me of a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest and hadn’t been found for days.
Fogo hissed.
Fyrian flinched but managed to say, “He’s going to regurgitate something, because the hatchling won’t survive for much longer without food.”
A horn blew through the air, and hundreds of armored knights on giant horses galloped out from the valley, holding torches and flags with the Savannah Sun. Leading them on the largest orlovi bird I’d ever seen was a blond-haired, bearded brute wearing golden armor.
I curled my lip and snarled, “King Magnar!”
Chapter 24
A dozen of Ki
ng Magnar’s soldiers rode past, holding four-foot-long hand cannons, which shot a stream of colored sparks into the air. They circled us on horseback, covering us in a spray of fireworks. Pale smoke filled the area, accompanied by pops, whirrs, and tiny explosions of light.
Hoofbeats rumbled under the soles of my feet. The armored calvary men made tight circles around us, closing in with every passing second. I unsheathed the Parched Sword, ready to attack if the smoke concealed foot soldiers.
Beside me, Evolene raised her staff and blew away some of the smoke. “What are they doing?”
“It looks like some kind of trick.” I glanced over my shoulder at Fogo, who hacked up a lump of partially digested meat. “But we’re leaving as soon as he’s fed that hatchling.”
“Oh no!” cried Fyrian.
I glanced up to see what she’d found so disturbing. As each firework exploded, it released a string that linked to another set of fireworks. The matrix of strings criss-crossed, stretching out over us like a net. “Not again!”
As Fogo scooped up the food with his claw and fed the hatchling, Fyrian blew a stream of fire up at the net. Each tiny string glowed like embers and hardened into metal.
“Stop!” I cried. “Your fire is making those net-things stronger.”
Evolene groaned. “I-it must be another fairy artifact. B-but this one’s for trapping dragons.”
My heart thudded. I hoped she was wrong.
“The hatchling just chirped!” said Fyrian.
As much as I wanted to look, I couldn’t. Armored horsemen rushed around us, and more of those terrible fireworks exploded overhead.
Evolene shot a stream of magic into the air. “The net’s getting wider, and it’s absorbing every attack!”
Something whistled past my ear and embedded itself in Fogo’s leg. It was an arrow of some sort, oozing liquid down his scales.
He snarled and continued dropping tiny chunks of regurgitated meat into the hatchling’s mouth.
I rushed to pull it out, but Fyrian said, “He wants you both to get on my back and stay down.”
“But that arrow could be poisoned!”
Fogo let out an ear-splitting roar, and Fyrian dropped down to her belly, indicating for us to climb. The edges of the net fell to the ground and burrowed into the soil. Then the horsemen stopped circling and let out cheers of triumph.
My stomach flip-flopped, and all the blood drained from my face. King Magnar and his soldiers had us trapped!
“Teleport away with the eggs,” I shouted to Fogo.
“He says he won’t leave us alone for a second with those brutes,” replied Fyrian.
A lump formed in my throat. I thought Fogo disliked Fyrian and me. “Evolene, do you know any enchantments to drain magic?”
“N-no, but I’ll try one for cutting through rock.” She blasted the net with red magic, but its fibers only glowed and thickened. Her shoulders sagged. “I-I don’t think I can fight it.”
“Fogo…” I turned to Aunt Cendrilla’s purple dragon, heart beating so hard, my voice trembled. “This could be our last chance. Take the eggs to Mount Fornax. You can always teleport back to rescue us with a gang of dragons.”
The purple dragon paused for a long moment, eyes unfocused, as though deciding whether to escape with the eggs and hatchling or to stay and protect us.
“Please, go!” I rushed over to him and pulled the arrow out of his leg.
Fogo’s nostrils flared and the sharpness returned to his eyes. He wrapped his tail around the carriage.
And nothing happened.
“It’s that blasted net!” I snarled. “Somehow they’ve made it dragon-proof.”
“But how?” asked Evolene.
That was also the question on my lips. Days ago, King Magnar knew nothing about dragons, going as far as to steal library books on the subject. And now he possessed weapons that could suppress a purple’s ability to teleport?
King Magnar dismounted his orlovi. This time, he stood eight feet tall, much like General Thornicroft, except with the bulk of a full ogre. In his golden armor, he looked like a living statue I’d once read about in horror scrolls. His golden beard parted, showcasing overlarge teeth, filed into shark-like points. If I hadn’t seen him transform last night during our duel, I would have thought this was a different warlord.
“Surrender the eggs.” His voice was as deep and rumbly as a tiger’s roar. “Hand them over, and we will let you live.”
My blood simmered. He had no right to lay a country to agricultural ruin then threaten to kill us for not letting him steal the young of innocent creatures. I stepped out from the dragons and stomped across the ground to face the cowardly thief. “You’ll change your mind again, like you did with the rules of our duel!”
The ferocious expression on his face faded. “Is that you, Albert?”
“I’ll fight you, right now! How could you do this to Steppe?”
He shook his head. “Forces you cannot fathom are at play. I will let you go, but I will take the dragons and eggs.”
“Duel me, you coward!”
He shook his head. “Astri, Botilta, adjust their memories. I want them to believe that a poacher took the eggs to the United Kingdom of Seven.”
Two blonde witches pushed their way through the horses. Each wore the same tan, leather uniform of a Savannah Sun-emblazoned breastplate and skirt I’d first seen the younger quartet wear in the royal box.
The sister with wavy hair looked about my age, and the one with straight, chin-length hair seemed about nineteen. Each held six-foot-tall staffs, indicating that they wielded at least the power of a Magical Militia lieutenant.
Fogo and Fyrian both growled.
My pulse thumped hard in my tightening throat, and I backed away until I reached Evolene. “Can you shield us?”
Evolene encased us both in a bubble of yellow light and whispered, “This won’t work if the pair combine their powers.”
“We’ll remember,” said Fyrian. “The power of two witches is nothing compared to a dragon’s magical tolerance.”
I gulped. “Make sure to remind me of everything that happened.”
“I will.”
Evolene and I intertwined our fingers, bracing ourselves for the spell. I should have listened to Fogo and climbed Fyrian’s back, then the witches’ magic wouldn’t reach us. But at the time, I’d wanted to give Fogo a chance to escape with the eggs. A wave of regret washed over me like strong vinegar, making my eyes water. Now we would lose everything.
“This is for getting your dragon to spray us with that liquid!” The wavy-haired one raised her staff and sent a jet of pale, blue magic at us.
It hit Evolene’s shield and spread across the dome she’d created from her magic. The older sister added her magic to the spell, and the power darkened to an azure blue.
A shiver ran down my spine. Tears blurred my eyes. How much would the witches erase? Everything since King Magnar arrived at Mount Fornax? The person I was then had little respect for Evolene, thinking she should have stood up to her father and not helped him commit all those crimes.
I would also forget about the friends I’d made in the drogott team and would forget that Gobi was a boy not much older than Chrysus, grieving for his mother.
A lot had happened in a week, but my biggest regret would be to have let the dragon eggs fall into the grasping hands of King Magnar. I hoped that Father and Master Fosco would dismiss my claims that poachers had taken the eggs to the United Kingdom of Seven. We really didn’t need angry dragons invading our greatest allies.
A seven-foot-tall warrior pushed his way through the soldiers, approaching King Magnar’s sisters from behind. A visor covered his face, matching black armor so shiny, it reflected every color of the fireworks.
I sucked in a breath. Was this King Magnar’s executioner?
“Worthless witches!” he snarled in a voice too high for his bulk. He shoved the two witches to the ground, breaking off their attack on Evolene’s dome.
“Must I do everything for you, boy?”
King Magnar scowled. “You hurt my sisters!”
The male in black turned his head to the King. “Magic prevents me from meting out their deserved punishment.”
I furrowed my brow. Why did he let the other male treat his sisters with such disrespect?
He raised a gloved hand and surrounded it with black smoke.
Fyrian screeched, and Fogo blew a thin stream of flame at the soldier, but it only hit the net and made it glow.
“Draco Unus Purpura,” he said. “You have broken your horn.”
The male took off his helmet, revealing a… I had to blink several times to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Evolene whimpered and clapped a hand over her mouth, and I couldn’t blame her. Although he stood about seven feet tall with a muscular physique bulging through his black, leather armor, atop a broad neck sat the oversized head of a baby. A baby with sunken eyes, a hooked nose, and earlobes that stretched down to his jaw.
“What is that?” I gasped into my mind.
“A s-spriggan.” Fyrian trembled, and cold fear seeped through our bond. It was the kind of primordial terror a person would have of a deadly creature they had never met. The kind that kept a person alive by overriding their curiosity and urging them to flee. “T-t-the creatures who w-worked for the F-forgotten King!”
The male grinned, revealing a mouth full of gnarled, yellow teeth. “You there, with the fairy blood. Are you my master’s kin?”
Disgust rippled through my insides, but I managed to shake my head.
“Liar. I smell it on your blood. You and the witch will join our cause.” He raised both hands, and the net tightened around us. “Excellent work, Magnar! This child may be exactly what we need to bring in the new order.”
“Fyri!” I yelled into the bond. “You can’t let them take us. Spray your venom on the net and see if you and Fogo can burn a hole through it.”
Fyrian still trembled, her crimson eyes wide.
“FYRI!” I gave her a mental slap.
“S-sorry!” She sprayed menthol-scented liquid onto the net.
Dragon Mage Academy Box Set Page 43