“There was nothing you could have done to prepare for that,” I said to him. “Nothing any of us could have done.”
Neill blinked, looking at me as if for the first time. “I know that. But it’s not just that. It’s Rubin. It’s Rik. It’s all the other clansmen of Torvald whom I have stood beside, trained under…”
The realization hit me of what he meant. “Oh stars, Neill, I’m so sorry.” They must have been killed by the Abbot, killed and transformed into those shadow specters that were even now racing towards our home. I couldn’t imagine what that must be like. Never to see your family again was devastating enough – but knowing that they had been trapped for eternity as some sort of evil spirit?
“We’ll stop the Abbot,” I promised him savagely. “We’ll make him pay for everything that he has done…” Somehow, I thought.
“If it’s the last thing we do,” Neill said, before his eyes widened and he pointed behind us. “Look. It’s there!”
I turned to see that he was right. Racing ahead of us, moving of its own steam and apparently independent of any current of air was the dark, boiling cloud of the Abbot’s shadow-army. It was flying low to the ground, heedless of the trees, hills, buildings or even villages that it flowed over and through. I watched it speed past an open country trail, upon which had been moving a cart and horses. As it eclipsed them, there was flash of light, and then the cloud was gone and the cart upturned on its side, abandoned. No sign of the drivers, or of the horses.
“It’s like it just consumed them,” I murmured.
“The darkening is death. It is beyond death,” Paxala snarled into my mind, making me wince with the force of her anger. “That is everything that the dragons stand against. The dragons are fire and warmth and light – and that shadow is cold and dark and death.” I sensed her deep disgust and fury at what her own father, Zaxx, had apparently done. The bull had moved beyond being a mere monster, or a mere tyrant to her – he was now an abomination.
“I will kill him. I will end his evil.” Paxala lashed her tail, exploding a stand of trees as we flew.
“I know you will, my sister,” I reassured her. “But first we have to outpace that thing, if we are to ever see our friends again.”
“Nothing can fly faster than a Crimson Red!” Paxala growled, and felt the thrust of energy as she threw everything she had into her flying. Her wings beat so fast they blurred, and I saw her making tiny adjustments all the time to catch the breeze, to make the most of that current of air.
And little by little, we started gaining on the dark cloud.
“Yes! Fly Paxala! We’re gaining on it!” I shouted as the cloud seemed to grow larger ahead of us. We had already passed and pulled away from the other nine dragons, as if the Crimson Red was trying to prove her point that we were indeed the fastest thing in the skies.
We were close enough now that I could see more detail in the dark cloud’s surface, the way that its body was constantly shifting and moving, and, I swear, I could make out the impressions of bodies, limbs, even faces.
My heart quailed at the thought of it – so many lives contained within that one shape. How many had there been in the rebel army? A thousand? Two thousand?
“Take heart, my sister,” Paxala roared into my mind, and I could feel within her the unquenchable fire that felt like the pulse of life itself, filling me with confidence and courage. It made me forget the ache in my shoulder, and the energy that the dragon was giving me felt stronger even than the Magewort potion that Jodreth had supplied me with.
The dragon’s powerful wings weren’t blurring with speed now, but beating vigorously and slowly, powerful beats that, with every downstroke powered us closer to the dark cloud.
“Char, up ahead,” Neill said, and I refocused my eyes, not on the cloud, but on the horizon where there was a pinnacle emerging. How fast were we going? We had covered more distance now, at the top range of the Red’s abilities and in less time than we ever had before.
“There’s our goal, Pax,” I whispered. “Take us home.” I lifted my legs from the stirrup-levers and nodded for Neill to follow my example. There was little that either of us could do now that would help the dragon in a straight race, and, without our insistent guidance, Pax roared and shot forward like a dart, skipping ahead of the cloud, barely meters above it, before arcing downwards into one long swooping flight, straight for the mountain. The wind filled Pax’s wings and pushed us even farther ahead.
The cloud receded behind us. We were going to make it! We were going to get there before the Abbot’s dark army! I exulted.
But we wouldn’t have long when we got there before we were engulfed.
Chapter 23
Neill, the Confrontation
“What is the meaning of this?” I shouted. “They were meant to follow on behind! To advance to Rampart!” I demanded when I saw what was below us.
Prince Vincent’s foot soldiers hadn’t left the slopes of Mount Hammal. They had, if anything, dug themselves in deeper, advancing in terraced waves of trenches up the slopes, almost half the height of the mountain itself. But their walls and defensive lines were facing outwards, at least, I thought. They hadn’t meant to attack the academy – for now.
“The prince has to come out and fight!” I called to Char as we rocketed closer and closer. “Land me before the walls. I will see what is the meaning of this treachery.”
“Not on your own! We’ll go with you? Paxala and me?” Char said, casting a worried look behind us at the dark cloud that was still advancing, growing larger and larger on the horizon. And beyond that, somewhere back there, were the nine other Dragon Riders.
“No,” I said, as Paxala started to flare and beat her wings to slow enough for a brief landing on the barren slopes of the mountain. “You need to warn those inside the academy. Get Maxal, Jodreth. Anyone with any bit of magical training–maybe there’s something, anything you can pull together to help us defeat this thing.”
“I’ll try,” Char said, frowning, holding my gaze for a moment as Paxala turned to take off once more. “Stay alive, Torvald.”
“And you,” I said, feeling as if one half of me was being ripped apart as I watched my friends leap into the sky, to acrobatically flip in the air over the walls of the Dragon Academy itself.
No time, I thought, turning to run down the slopes of the mountain toward the dark black and gold tent, surrounded by wooden stakes and archers that belonged to Prince Vincent.
My sides burned as I ran as fast as I could, but the sight of evil shadow that was gaining size on the horizon made me forget my human frailties. I sprinted, ignoring the collection of Middle Kingdom scouts who stood up as I ran past.
I charged through the ad hoc lines of trenches, and gathering soldiers and militia, tough men and women who lived and died by the sword and had already spent weeks on the road.
“Here! Stop him!” their captains shouted. I managed to shove the first to try and tackle me aside, and knock down the second.
“Take me to the prince!” I bellowed. “I am the first Dragon Rider and I must see your prince now, our very lives depend upon it!”
I threw a glance over my shoulder and saw the cloud was growing in size, now occupying almost a quarter of the northern sky. When would it reach us? Where were the other Dragon Riders? I wondered in anguish. The cloud had traveled fast. Faster than any normal weather front. Almost as fast as a dragon!
“Bring him forward,” an imperious voice sounded past a line of very large and very surly looking infantry. As they parted, I found myself staring at the Dark Prince himself before his fine black and gold tent, dressed in chain mail over a stained, dark-leather cuirass. At his arms and legs were finely tooled greaves, and at his hip was the finely made sword. He had braided his long, dark hair into one long warrior’s plait, although I thought that a helmet might be more sensible in his position. He was also looking at me with suspicion.
“Master Torvald? Where is Sir Rathon? Where are my knights? H
ave you won the battle so easily?” he quizzed me.
“You betrayed your oath to join us as our rearguard!” I said hotly, wishing my arms were free so that I could at least point a finger at him. “Sir Rathon knew it,” I said, my heart finding the words as I remembered the old general’s wary, suspicious conversation right before the battle. “He knew you weren’t going to back him up,” I challenged him.
There were a few gasps and mutters from the heavy infantry around us, although I did not know if that was because of my accusations, or the tone of voice that I was using to insult their prince.
Their prince, I reminded myself. He has never been my lord. He has never been loyal to me, or to Torvald.
“What use would it have been if I marched thousands of men north, only to have the great Dragon Riders and my best knights defeat the armies before I even got there?” Prince Vincent purred. “Better to wait here and discover the sort of valor and skills that you Dragon Riders have in battle, before joining, I think.”
“You sent us to die,” I spat the words at him. “Either that, or you’re a coward.” I could see the type of man that Vincent was. One who was forever getting good people to do his dirty work. He had probably wanted me and Char to die in the battle, so he could once again try to take over the academy in our absence. He didn’t care if Sir Rathon died, just so long as he himself didn’t.
“How dare you call me a coward,” Schnickt! There was a whisper-quick maneuver as the fine, straight-bladed sword that the prince wore appeared in his hand. I had barely seen his hands move, they were so quick. I reassessed my judgment of him – he might be a coward, but he was a very well-trained one.
“And, Master Torvald. You may be the First Rider. You may be the Chosen Warden of the Academy, as your father was the Chosen Warden of the East. But you are still my subject.” The prince advanced on me, his blade still held out, and my hands still seized by the prince’s men on either side. Is this how it all ends?
“And those dragons, too, are my subjects. If I choose you to die for the good of the throne, then you’d better well do it!” Vincent said coldly.
“Now’s your chance to prove you are not a coward, Vincent,” I snarled back, nodding over his shoulder at the cloud that was fast approaching over the plain. It would be on the forward lines and walls of his troops in moments. “That is our enemy. The enemy you swore to defeat. That dark shadow has been summoned by your old friend the Abbot, and it contains the unquiet souls of thousands of men, bent to the Abbot’s will. The Abbot will also be here soon, with the monster Zaxx. Prove to us all that you can lead!” I demanded of him.
“What? That?” The prince was staring at the dark shadow in horror. “You mean that you didn’t defeat the rebels? The Abbot? Zaxx? You mean that Sir Rathon and my knights—”
“All dead. All fed into that dark magic.” I nodded, as the dark shadow engulfed the first line of the prince’s troops.
There were terrifying screams, and flashes of muted lightning from inside the cloud as it devoured the crowd below us. As soon as the dark shadow had hit the mass of human soldiers it had halted as if busy, and even from this great height I could see the edges of the cloud starting to fray and dissipate, as shadows uncoiled and dropped to the ground, taking on almost human form…
“What – how do we stop it?” The prince said, aghast, as the captains on either side of me dropped their hold to stare at the thing that they couldn’t fight.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Our spears were useless against it, and Sir Rathon’s knights’ weapons were too.”
“Fire!” The prince suddenly commanded. “Bring up the firepots! Try to burn it!”
The command was passed down the slopes of men by shouts and waving flags, and we watched as small, fast moving teams of soldiers with heavy packs carrying little clay pots started to snake down towards the front.
It was a frontline that was rapidly collapsing under the sudden arrival and dissipation of ghostly, shadow-attackers. I saw some of the Middle Kingdomers start to abandon their posts, whilst others bravely held on, to be surrounded by strange shadow-beings.
“Clear!” We heard the thin warnings of the distant fire-hurlers, as the small teams threw their clay pots, lit on one end, at the enemy. They sailed harmlessly through the dark, exploding in a scatter of sparks and flames, to under light the shadow.
“Fire doesn’t work,” the prince said, wide-eyed, his entire demeanor changed from arrogance to panic. “Torvald, you must do something. You must have an answer to this!”
I didn’t know what the answer could be. I had never faced anything like this before, and I had never heard of my father ever fighting a foe this strange. But there were people down there who needed guidance. Who needed some help, however slim it might be. My mind raced.
“Lead your men, prince,” I snapped at him. “Let them see you. Guide them back up the mountain to the academy.”
“What good will that do?” Vincent was almost hysterical.
“It’s what they deserve,” I growled back. “And then we find Ansall. And Zaxx. It’s Ansall and Zaxx’s magic that caused this, somehow – if we can stop them, then maybe, just maybe, their spells will unravel as well.”
The prince nodded, his face pinched with fear and concentration as he signaled for his horse to be brought forward. “Guards! To me! We clear a path for the escaping soldiers. Help those who have fallen.” He was saying as he leapt atop his horse. In the dark and flame-lit gloom, he appeared almost noble. “Torvald?” He pointed to another stallion that had been brought forward.
I might as well do some good, before we all die, I thought, vaulting onto the horse and wishing it were a dragon. “Easy fella, easy,” I murmured to him, before starting to help the prince save what he could of his people.
The cloud was moving at a steady pace, no faster than a slow walk on foot, but implacable as it started to swirl around the slopes of Mount Hammal, and then, horribly, start to rise.
“Skeayar! Sckrrr!” The dragons whirled and called from above the academy and I raised a gloved hand, hoping that any of them would see me, and know that I was all right.
“Char knows.” Paxala’s voice, heavy and angry, broke into my mind. She seemed able to communicate with me much easier here on mountain soil. What was it they said? That this mountain is sacred…
“I will tell her what I see of you. She is busy with the lightning monk.”
The lightning monk? I thought in confusion, before the answer came to me. I smiled wearily. She must mean Jodreth. “Good. Just tell them to find a solution!” I said out loud, making the wounded soldier I had been helping look at me oddly. I rode beside the prince, giving orders for the soldiers to evacuate their positions and start moving up the mountain ahead of the cloud’s advance. We were still losing hundreds of people down at the front – those who had either bravely stayed to try and fight the shadow-warriors or those too slow in running away.
It appeared that Char, Jodreth and the others had at least found a way to help as there came a sudden crackle of thunder behind us, over the Dragon Academy. Illuminated over the front gates a small gaggle of people, one of them—Jodreth—with his staff held high and another with a spark of bright hair caught in the reflected lightning.
Char, my heart beat. She was fierce and proud up there, just as she always looked to me.
I’ve never had much time for girls, I thought. It was always swords and fighting stances, but if there were ever a girl I’d happily spend the rest of my life with, it would be her.
Only now, it all appeared almost too late as the cloud was billowing up in front of the mountain, ready to engulf us all. I’m an idiot, I thought. I should have told Char what I felt about her earlier.
I looked back up at Char, and saw that her assembled group were doing something, raising their interlocked hands into the sky as the lightning crackled over the gathering clouds.
This is like what the Abbot had them do before, I remembered. When my brothers ha
d attacked this mountain, the Abbot had managed to hypnotize his magical students into summoning a great storm, and now, it looked as though Char and Jodreth were attempting to do the same.
The storm clouds generating above the academy swirled and glowered, lowering their bulk over the slopes of the mountain in direct retaliation to the Abbot’s spectral cloud. I watched in a sort of awed terror as these two titanic forces crept towards each other, a thin strip of blue-grey sky between them, and then, with a roll of thunder, the academy’s cloud gave way to a gale of hurricane wind, straight down into the dark shadows of the Abbot’s.
“Woah!” The soldiers around me suddenly slipped, gripping their helmets and each other as the gale force winds Char had summoned blew apart campfires, tents, blew spears out of soldier’s hands.
But it was also forcing back the shadow-warriors. On the slopes below me, one of the shadow-warriors attempted to stride forward, raising his eldritch sword as more and more gobbets of shadow-stuff were pulled from his body. Through sheer evil will, the thing continued to march, even as it grew fainter and fainter, before eventually evaporating into darkness.
We might even be able to win this, I thought, watching the magical gales drive the dark shadows back. But how long before they re-incorporated and attacked again?
Just as I was starting to build my hope once more, there emerged over the darkening shadows the mighty bulk of our true enemy, and he was being harried by seven much smaller dragons.
Zaxx had arrived.
Chapter 24
Neill, the Greatest Challenge Yet
Zaxx had arrived, over the skies of his old home, and he flew ponderously and slowly, like a mountain hovering in the air. His wings were ancient and much-tattered, and his golden scales had cracked and dulled so that he now appeared just yellowish, and with a hint of rust.
Dragon Mage (The First Dragon Rider Book 3) Page 21