The Last Dragon Charmer #3

by Laurie McKay

  Brynne stood still. They raced over her shoes and past her. “A swarm.”

  Caden knew of only one individual who could control swarming mice. Mr. Creedly.

  The only light close to them was from their phones, but Caden saw Brynne’s face and knew that she was thinking the same thing. In the entire school, Mr. Creedly only liked two people: Ms. Primrose and Mrs. Belle. He considered Rath Dunn an enemy; he considered Ms. Jackson an enemy. If Mr. Creedly was here, it wasn’t to help the other villains; it was to attack them.

  Back toward the villains, a horrible, shrill cry pierced the woods. It echoed off the trees and the ground. Caden covered his ears. Brynne, too. The banshee was screaming. Suddenly, another, deeper battle cry filled the air. It sounded like Manglor. And if he’d made a move, no doubt Jasan had, too.

  Screaming, yelling, and cursing erupted from the teachers ahead of them. Caden heard weapons clank. There was no reason for him and Brynne to stay hidden now. They darted downhill toward the fray.

  So it was, the third spell battle began.

  The trees towered. With the fight underway, villains swung flashlights as weapons. Some dropped them into the leaf litter. The moving light beams illuminated runes and sigils on the trees’ massive trunks and roots.

  Caden spotted Manglor. He charged at the teachers on the far side. In the waving flashlight beams, Caden saw the part-giant-looking school nurse block Manglor’s large flat-bladed battle-ax with her forearm.

  Mr. Faunt snuck up suddenly behind Manglor. His nails looked long and razor sharp. Manglor swung the ax around and hit him blunt side, in the stomach. Mr. Faunt fell, robbed of breath. With a sneer, he crawled away from Manglor. The nurse kept fighting and knocked Manglor with her large fist. He staggered back, only to charge her again a moment later.

  Mr. Creedly’s rodent swarm descended from all directions. Mr. Limon, with horns curling at his temples, fled uphill.

  Mr. Limon jumped a log but slipped on the wet bark, falling onto his stomach. The swarm overtook him. Biting and snarling, they covered him like a black wave.

  Where was Jasan? Where was Ms. Jackson? Caden scanned the fighting. There!

  On the left flank, surrounded by five teachers, was his brother. Jasan fought his way toward the middle of the fray. Using his sword—Caden’s sword—he cut down those in his path. He knocked them away quickly. One. Two. Then three, four, and five. Two more villains jumped in his way—one was the banshee, the other the blood wraith. She had a long, pointed spear—one of metal and glass that she’d obviously created with local materials. Jasan charged the wraith and knocked her back.

  When the banshee screamed, shrill and loud and painful, the rats scattered. But they gathered again quickly. The banshee stood behind Jasan. He stretched his jaw and showed his teeth. If he bit Jasan, he’d poison him.

  “Ms. Jackson has the vial!” Brynne said.

  In the center of the mayhem, Ms. Jackson stood atop a stump, overseeing all. She held the vial above her head, and it glowed red in the night—Jasan’s blood, the blood of son.

  Jasan’s life was in her hands. With no time to think, Caden hoisted himself up on Sir Horace. Brynne swung up behind him. “Run, Sir Horace! To the witch.”

  Sir Horace plowed through the rats and battling villains. With a mighty whinny, he galloped at Ms. Jackson, but he tripped on a large rat and Caden and Brynne tumbled from his back. On the ground, the rats swarmed them from all sides. Caden and Brynne didn’t seem to be the target, but they’d be overcome if in the way.

  Caden reached for the stick he’d dropped. He did a sweeping attack and sent rats flying. Brynne pushed them away with magic. Sir Horace bucked and stomped, knocking away the rodents that tried to climb up his mighty legs.

  They had to get to Ms. Jackson before it was too late. Caden dashed in her direction.

  Brynne did, too, but the lanky sixth-grade English teacher, Mr. Frye, stepped in her way, brandishing a rune-covered flashlight. She dodged his swipe and countered, but he became transparent at the last moment, and her fist passed through him. At the sight of Brynne in trouble, Sir Horace charged Mr. Frye. Again, he seemed to turn to mist. Sir Horace thundered through him. As Mr. Frye became solid again, he kept his body turned to Sir Horace. Brynne took advantage of the distraction and knocked Mr. Frye into a tall oak. He didn’t get up.

  Caden was so busy worrying over them, he didn’t see Mr. Faunt lunging for him until the last moment. Quickly, Caden flipped him with his sparring stick. Mr. Faunt landed on his feet. Jane charged in from the opposite direction, brandishing her hammer like a club. Mr. Faunt jumped back.

  Ms. Jackson started to speak. “Earth quake, ground break!” she screamed into the wind. Oh no. The incantation and spell. “With the blood of the seventh royal son,” Ms. Jackson yelled, “may the barrier that separates the lands be further undone.”

  Caden got up. “Jasan! Jasan! Ms. Jackson has the vial!”

  Jasan looked up, too focused on his fight with the wraith and the banshee to be surprised Caden was there. Or maybe he just wasn’t surprised. Then he saw Ms. Jackson and ran, leaving his opponents stunned and far behind.

  He was the farthest away, but he was also the fastest. He tackled her, they crashed to the ground, and the vial flew from her hands and rolled across the ground, the contents unspilled, the ingredient intact.

  Jasan sliced at Ms. Jackson with the sword, and she blocked him with her cursed ladle. Blow for blow, punch for punch, she matched his skill and his speed. How was that possible? Even if she was as well trained as Jasan, she couldn’t be as fast.

  Then a beam of a flashlight hit her skin. Runes appeared on every visible piece of flesh. She had painted her whole body with them. When Jasan attacked, they glowed. Did the runes make it so she was able to mimic his skill?

  Before Mr. Wist, the banshee, could follow Jasan, Tito engaged him. Tito swung the flashlight like a Razzonian sword. Mr. Wist ducked and moved easily.

  Caden heard Brynne yell, “Don’t get bit!” and he saw Brynne and Sir Horace charge Tito’s way to help. Manglor finally felled the nurse, and he lunged toward them as well.

  Caden ran to retrieve the vial. The blood wraith blocked Caden’s path. Her hair was serpentlike, her eyes completely black. Her expression was frenzy and euphoria. She swung her long, pointed spear over her head. With a bloody battle cry, she jabbed it at Caden.

  He dodged, then countered with his stick, but his weapon wasn’t a match for hers. It splintered as they clashed. Part of the stick tumbled into the darkness. Caden dropped the remaining stick piece as he jumped out of the way of her next attack. Then he darted back toward her. With a rolling motion, he grabbed her and slammed her to the ground.

  But she laughed. She reached out and grabbed at something. The red vial glowed in her hand. “Is this what you want?” she said. Before Caden could respond or grab it from her, she crushed it to sharp, jagged glass pieces and dripping red blood. The red glowing ingredient spilled out and sank into the earth.

  The ground began to shake.

  Caden fell back. Frantically, he scanned for Jasan. He caught a glimpse of golden hair near the stump, and caught Jasan’s gaze just as his brother fell to his knees. It had taken time for Jane’s eyes to dry out. Caden only hoped it would be the same for Jasan’s blood. Brynne’s hair had flown off right away, but she’d also been in a windstorm. It wasn’t too late, was it? No one had been sacrificed yet. There was still hope for Jasan. He could still be saved, right?

  The forest began to moan. Branches splintered, and trees crashed to the ground. The rats scattered. He glanced back. In the waving beams of the flashlights, he saw large trees topple down. They fell one after another as if pushed over by a stampeding beast.

  Jasan remained where he’d fallen, on his knees and breathing hard. Ms. Jackson stood over him, ladle raised, as if ready to beat him with it. Caden needed to get to him.

  The forest floor started to shift, to move apart. The giant pine to Caden’s left tilted t
oward the ground, and he scurried away as it began to fall. Air and earth and leaves blew against his back as the tree hit the ground behind him. The crack traveled toward Manglor, Tito, Brynne, and Sir Horace, who were still engaged with the banshee. It would swallow them if they didn’t move.

  “Run!” he yelled toward his friends. “The ground splits!” Manglor grabbed Tito and leaped away. The banshee jumped back. The waving lights passed over Brynne’s face. She turned his way, and her eyes widened as she noticed the toppling trees and the chasm traveling toward her. In a swift movement, she swung up onto Sir Horace’s back. They charged ahead. The ground pulled apart in front of them. With a great leap, Sir Horace jumped across it and landed soundly on the other side.

  The chasm split the forest, deep and black. How deep, Caden didn’t know, but it looked bottomless. If anyone fell into the pit—Mrs. Belle or otherwise—the spell would be complete. He climbed over a large branch. A large, skittering form dashed past Caden. Its many long, spidery legs scurried over the fallen tree trunks. It walked on the sides of the chasm that had formed. When light shone on it, green eyes glowed in the dark.

  It looked terrifying and familiar.

  Like all villains, Mr. Creedly’s true form could only be seen at night. He was spindly and insect-like, ants and vermin and fur twisted into limbs, teeth, and shadow. He scurried toward the center of the spell, and Caden dashed in the same direction.

  Near the crevice, Mrs. Grady dragged Mrs. Belle by the arms toward the gaping hole in the ground. The trees above tilted and leaned on one another like the roof of an unhallowed shrine; the fissure on the ground opened like a black mouth.

  To stop the sacrifice, he had to save Mrs. Belle. But Jasan was fallen in front of Ms. Jackson. He needed to save him, too, lest he be pushed into the pit. He started to run toward his brother, but then Jane rushed from the other side, hammer raised, abandoning her battle with Mr. Faunt. Instead, she swung at Ms. Jackson. Mr. Faunt didn’t follow her. He ran to help his evil math comrade, Mrs. Grady.

  Ms. Jackson blocked with her ladle, but her moves were slower than before, less practiced. The runes again glowed. As with Jasan, she seemed to mimic her opponent. They were evenly matched. But while Ms. Jackson fought with a cursed ladle, Jane fought with an enchanted hammer.

  Through the scattered moonlight, Jane caught Caden’s eyes. She blocked a blow from Ms. Jackson. “I’ll protect him. Stop the others!”

  An Elite Paladin trusted his friends; he believed in his allies. Although it was hard not to run for Jasan, Caden ran for Mrs. Belle. He needed to save her, and he needed not to fall into the crevice either.

  Mr. Creedly scurried toward Mrs. Belle. Caden was almost there, too. Just before Caden reached them, Mrs. Grady and Mr. Faunt heaved and dumped Mrs. Belle into the pit. Her veil flew away in the wind.

  Oh no.

  Ms. Jackson and Jane broke apart; they watched Mrs. Belle fall. Caden darted to the edge of the chasm. He grasped for Mrs. Belle’s hand, her ankle, anything to hold onto. Mr. Creedly made a sound like an unearthly screech. His shadowy arms elongated and reached for the falling science teacher, too. And then—something reached out of the darkness to meet him. A long, red-tipped limb, like a spider’s leg.

  Then another red-tipped leg became visible. Soon an eight-legged creature with ruby red feet and a humanlike face skittered up into the forest. When the moonlight shone, the face was familiar. The creature laughed, high-pitched and fast, and that sounded familiar, too. It was Mrs. Belle, and she looked monstrous.

  He doubted she was human enough to fulfill the sacrifice. And she’d hid her true form better than Mr. Creedly. It seemed even the villains hadn’t realized what she was.

  Mr. Creedly hissed at Mrs. Grady and Mr. Faunt. Mrs. Grady ran. Like a laughing spider with bloodred tips on the ends of her eight legs, Mrs. Belle took chase. Mr. Faunt tried to dash away in the opposite direction, but Mr. Creedly reached out one of his long limbs and grabbed him. In his anger, he hurled him toward the pit.

  Quickly, Mr. Faunt used his nails to latch onto a fallen oak. He stopped himself half a stride from the pit.

  “Rath Dunn!” Manglor bellowed from uphill, where he and Tito had just defeated the banshee.

  “He’s there!” Tito shouted.

  Near the chasm, a figure dressed in red stepped from the shadows. It was Rath Dunn. He reached out as if to help Mr. Faunt, but instead tossed him into the black chasm.

  Caden froze. He waited for Mr. Faunt to crawl out somehow like Mrs. Belle had but he didn’t. Was Mr. Faunt human? He looked it more than some of the others. Would he satisfy the spell? Somewhere in the darkness the banshee screamed.

  Ms. Jackson started to cackle, loud and mean and cruel, and Jane tackled her.

  Jasan lay unmoving. The open ground rumbled shut until only a small crack remained. Red, sticky rain began to fall, and it blocked the scattered moonlight.

  Caden stood there in shock. He heard sirens from somewhere close. He thought he heard Rosa and Officer Levine calling them.

  Jane held Ms. Jackson down. Manglor pushed aside a tree, and he and Tito bounded toward the stump, Tito with his flashlight lit. Brynne and Sir Horace galloped to Jasan’s side. Manglor crouched beside him and threw Jasan over his shoulder. “We must get him to the hospital.”

  “Is he alive?” Brynne said. She sounded panicked.

  Manglor didn’t answer her.

  Vaguely, Caden noticed his own blood dagger wound start to bleed. But he was too stunned to understand what it meant or to feel how much it hurt. Manglor should answer that question. Caden needed to know; he stepped toward them.

  They surrounded Jasan. All their attention was on him. It didn’t register right away that his blood dagger wound began to ache then the way it did when the blade was very close.

  WHACK. Caden heard something crack. It might have been his skull. Pain erupted on the side of his head. Something had hit him. He collapsed to the ground, felt the mud squish under him. He saw a pair of red boots. Then everything went black. Everything went silent.

  Caden’s head throbbed. He was sluggish and cold.

  As he gained more awareness, he felt the tingle in his limbs that signified the curse. It felt even stronger than before. Slowly, he blinked.

  His cheek was stuck to polished tiles. He heard thunder, and it made the floor rumble. The walls around him were painted red. There was a window that looked out onto an outcropping of rock. Frost collected on the inside, but outside it was sunny. It seemed he’d been asleep awhile.

  “You’re awake. It’s almost midday.” That was Rath Dunn’s voice. And Caden was in his office. “I was beginning to worry I’d hit you too hard.”

  Head injuries were nothing trivial. “You did hit me too hard,” Caden managed.

  “You’re alive. That’s all that’s required.” He flip-flapped his hand. “Since last night, you’ve been in and out of sleep. But I’m glad you’ll be awake for what is to come.”

  Caden wasn’t so sure about any of that.

  On the desk, the phone rang. Rath Dunn looked at it but made no move to answer. “Everyone is looking for you,” he said.

  Did that mean Caden had gone missing again? He’d told Rosa and Jasan he wouldn’t do that. And that he’d call. Memories of the night surged back. His chest felt tight. His heart beat loudly. Jasan had fallen. Was he alive?

  Rath Dunn walked in front of Caden, leaving Caden to stare at the man’s red boots. “Too bad they won’t find you. They might suspect you’re here with me. But trust me when I say, the guard I have inside the office door is one no one will get past.”

  Rath Dunn brought out a file from his desk drawer. It was stuffed with papers and purple slips. “Now. We have business. Mediocre grades. Constant detentions. Skipping. It’s time I expel you, don’t you think?”

  Caden’s head felt heavy, but his mind was working well enough. “If I’m no longer a student, you can use me as the last sacrifice.”

  “Well, if you insist.
You are from the Greater Realm,” Rath Dunn said. “You’re lucky, son of Axel.”

  “How’s that?” Caden said. He really needed to get his cheek off the floor. At least, the floor was clean and cool. Fate be thanked for small mercies.

  “Ms. Jackson said you’d be docile,” Rath Dunn said. “She’s a fine creature.” He threw the file on the desk and took out a notebook. “A strategist. A planner. A detailed note taker.” He turned the notebook toward Caden. “Directions. One can never be too careful.”

  “For the spell.”

  “Indeed.” Rath Dunn stroked the notebook lovingly. “She even gave me lessons. I wanted to share this triumph with her.”

  Caden hadn’t seen Ms. Jackson fall. “Where is she?”

  Rath Dunn snorted. “Arrested. By your Officer Levine. Ah well. They’ll all be dead soon enough. And if you want things finished the right way, you should do them yourself. Don’t you think?”

  “After she did all the hard work.”

  Rath Dunn guffawed. “Well, yes. But to see a master at her craft. . . .” He put his hand over his heart. “She is brilliant. She does the impossible and makes ritual magic classy.” His mouth twisted into a cruel line. “If I didn’t need you mostly in one piece, I’d make you suffer before you die for getting in the way.”

  The bump on Caden’s head hurt, as did his blood dagger wound. That meant Rath Dunn had his weapon. Not that Caden was a match for him in combat with or without it. But Caden wouldn’t be sacrificed willingly. Be it hopeless or not, future Elite Paladins fought.

  “That’s quite a determined expression you have,” Rath Dunn said. “Makes me think of Axel.”

  Caden was prepared to attack as soon as he could lift his head.

  A slow, wolfish smile spread across Rath Dunn’s face. “Stay down. Don’t speak.”

  Orders.

  Had Brynne’s curse-curse worked? Would the second curse negate the first? Resist or comply. Resist or comply. Caden felt the two urges fight inside him. At this rate, he would explode before he was even sacrificed. The curse-curse was going to kill him. Then . . .