He had to talk to Dean Rosehill.
He had to stop Miri!
She had gone crazy, and Dean Rosehill would know what to do. He would know how to rein her in. Together they could protect the university and figure out a way to solve this horrible mess!
He crested a hill. The university lay below, a welcome sight to his eyes.
Then the ground rumbled, shaking him off balance.
He watched as all of the buildings crumbled.
The Academy of History and Magical Sciences was the last to fall, but when it did, Laner knew.
Dean Rosehill was no more.
As the dust settled, Laner dropped to his knees and wept.
***
Amal kissed Demetrius as she waited behind a curtain at a high school auditorium.
She had notified the press that she was going to make an important announcement, and they listened. The press was gathered in the front row of the auditorium, cameras and microphones ready. A small but loyal audience of supporters had gathered in the seats, and they were whispering.
“This is going to be the speech to end all speeches,” Demetrius said. “You nervous?”
Amal shook her head. “I’m ready.”
Her phone rang in her purse. She grabbed it off a window sill and silenced it.
“It’s time,” Demetrius said.
She kissed him again.
Then her phone buzzed. It wouldn’t stop buzzing. She grabbed it and saw a snippet of a text message scroll across her screen.
Open this message immediately…
She ignored it and turned her phone off.
She prepared to walk on stage and breathed in deeply. She rehearsed the bombshell line in the middle of her speech.
I have discovered some information that changes the story of this campaign…
“Miss!” a voice cried.
A student with glasses made his way through the darkened backstage for Amal.
Demetrius stopped him. “She’s about to go out. It can wait.”
“It’s pretty important. There’s someone outside demanding to see her.”
Amal’s eyes widened. “No. This won’t wait. Tell them I’ll see them after.”
She refused to listen to the response. She hurried onstage.
Her supporters clapped and rose.
The press took photos, and the photoflashes blinded her momentarily.
She drifted toward a podium where several microphones were pointed at her.
She stammered at first. “Many people have said my campaign is over.”
The crowd watched her, silently anticipating her every word.
“And you know what? I can’t tell you how many times I thought about dropping out. My husband and I have already had the talk.”
She paused. She felt herself getting stronger, her voice getting surer.
“But I am here to tell you today that I am not dropping out. In fact, I am ramping up my campaign.”
She swallowed.
The sentence was coming. It was coming and she was ready for it and she was going to say it with all the conviction she had ever learned in her life.
“I am also here to tell you—”
WHOOM…
The lights went out.
The audience murmured.
The press clamored. The cameramen stood at their cameras, scratching their heads.
The cameras had lost all power.
Several people in the audience tried to use their phones, but even they had lost power.
Amal looked backstage.
Demetrius was standing, dumbfounded.
Then she noticed a man in a suit walking toward her. He wore sunglasses and a black suit.
A government type. She knew them from a mile away.
The man stopped just outside the curtain and motioned her to come to him.
Amal felt as if she were sleepwalking as she approached him.
“Mrs. Amal Fredericka Shalewood?”
“Y-Yes.”
He handed her a black tablet with the governor’s insignia on it—a group of curved lines as intricate and elaborate as a tattoo. The lines glowed blue, green and purple. “M’am, you’ve been served.”
The tablet blinked and a message scrolled across the screen.
18 M.H.C. § 4516 - COURT ORDER
Mrs. Shalewood,
Under the authority of Governor Ennius Grimoire, Executive Order 1357, and the district court, you are hereby directed not to speak of any details that occurred recently in the Ancestral Bogs. This is now a government investigation and a matter of law. You are hereby ordered to remain silent on the matter until it has been ruled upon by the district court. Failure to adhere to this injunction will result in criminal action, and you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
Please observe the dragon insignia below to affirm your reception of this document.
At the bottom of the tablet, a dragon head with two cobalt eyes stared at her. The eyes were alive, and they were looking at her in real-time. The tablet emitted two circular beams of blue light, scanning Amal’s retinas. The dragon growled and the insignia disappeared.
The tablet went blank.
Then, one by one, the lights came on, and the crowd began to cheer.
“Thank you, m’am,” the man said. He nodded to her and walked out.
The crowd cheered for her. “Amal! Amal!”
Amal looked at Demetrius. “What just happened?”
“They’re playing dirty,” Demetrius said. He kicked over a nearby chair. “Crap!”
Amal massaged her temples. She didn’t know what to do.
Demetrius put his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll regroup. It’s okay.”
Amal nodded as she staggered out to the podium.
***
Dark licked his raw leg as Frog prepared a poultice for it.
He couldn’t have been prouder of Frog. His chest had swelled with pride when the young dragon came to his rescue.
Though his leg burned and his wings ached, he was grateful to be alive. They had flown in an irregular pattern around the city, mixing in with dragon traffic for cover. Dark’s black color had returned to his scales, so they had to be extra careful. Dark had to push through the pain. He didn’t give up, and for that he was alive to continue his fight.
Frog scooped the bog pond with his broad claws, pulling up dregs of clumpy grass. He had a bond fire going, and it crackled at the pond’s edge.
Dark tasted the smoke on his tongue and it took him back to earlier memories of the torches burning in his palace. How the smoky scent reminded him of home!
He still couldn’t believe the similarity of this bog to the real thing. Why, he had done the very same in his palace. To have a space in one’s home that reminded one of his true home—this was a comfort that had not been lost on Frog.
“Frog, you would have beamed when you saw how masterfully I disposed of those vile things,” Dark said, licking his wound. It was ragged from where he ripped off his own scales. Each lick created an explosion of warmth, but he had to sterilize it or it would become infected, since he could no longer use magic without paying a price. His body couldn’t take any magic use right now. “My boy, it was glorious. One for the parchments!”
Frog didn’t answer. Instead, the river dragon balled up the grass and sprinkled water over it. Then he grabbed clumps of lemongrass and cattails, which grew at the water’s edge, and he mixed them together in a large bowl using his stumpy tail as a pestle. Then he took the poultice and spread it on Dark’s wound, sealing it with a protection spell that locked in the heat and moisture of the medicine.
Cricket song filled the space between them.
“Thank you, Frog,” he said. “Already I feel better. This old dragon just needs some rest now, and I’ll be fine tomorrow. Mark my words, my boy, this is just the beginning of the bloodshed. Just the beginning!”
“Is bloodshed all you can see?” Frog asked. He was frowning, and the very fact tha
t he was not sharing in the exuberance angered Dark.
“What kind of imbecilic question is that? Of course blood isn’t the only thing I can see,” Dark quipped. “But it’s the only thing I want to see.”
“I’ve told ya. Killin’ isn’t the answer. Next time you mightn’t walk out of the situation alive.”
Dark’s face went long. “Frankly, I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
“And what’s that?”
“You’re ungrateful, that’s what.”
Anger crept across Frog’s face. “What?”
Dark took a flippant tone. No, anger was not the way to handle this boy. Not yet. “I could have continued upon my crusade after taking a small respite on your roof. But upon hearing your depressing tale and the gruesome death of your father, I decided to help you. It was the least I could do. I murdered Moss’s daughters and avenged Toad’s death.”
“Avenged!” Frog yelled.
“An eye for an eye,” Dark said. He limped over to Frog and put a claw around his shoulder. Frog instinctively moved away but Dark held his shoulder tight. “Moss’s death is reserved for me and me only. But it’s incredible—no, deplorable—that I haven’t heard one word of thanks from you yet. I expected you to be happy, my boy! Why, I’ve lifted a burden off your shoulders!”
“You’ven’t lifted a burden.”
“Oh?”
“You satisfied your own thirst for revenge.”
Frog broke away and sulked on the water’s edge. Dark stared after him incredulously.
“What would you have me do, Frog? Should I have delivered their heads to you on a stake?”
“This isn’t about me!” Frog said.
“Then perhaps I should continue my journey alone.” Dark rose. “I’ll not settle for anything less than a thank you after all I’ve done for you tonight. And trust me—my service to you is just beginning.” He glanced around the rooftop with disdain. “Seriously, how long did you think you would be living among elves? You’re destined to return to your home.”
“When’ll you get it in your head that the past is gone?” Frog asked. “When’ll you see the present for what it is?”
“The present is disgusting,” Dark snarled. “And I intend to change it.”
Dark spread his wings. They were too weak. He wouldn’t be able to fly away and he knew it. He knew Frog knew it.
“Where will you go?” Frog asked with a slight grin. “Without me, you’ll be lost.”
Dark turned his back. “What is it you want, Frog?”
“You don’t think I’ve dreamed about revenge? Theresn’t a night I don’t dream about my father and the way he died. But there’s justice and there’s revenge. I prefer the former.”
“Justice! Oh my, how civilized, you river dragon, you! And how do you suppose we get it, hmm?”
At that moment a white orb flashed by Dark. It hovered over his head and it blinked several times as if it were taking photographs and measurements.
Frog grinned. “That’s how we’ll get justice.”
Dark’s face wrinkled with confusion. “I don’t understand.”
The white orb beeped and then it opened, revealing a projector.
Dark assumed an attack stance, but the orb hovered out of reach. “Frog, how do you suppose we destroy it?”
“There’s no need,” Frog croaked.
Norwyn appeared in a staticky hologram on the grass. He was smiling. “It’s been too long, old friend.”
***
Moss flew over the shores of the eastern continent and beheld its dark, emerald green waters.
The humidity had grown on him during his flight.
As day broke, and the sun rose into the empty azure sky, he set his sights on a mountain range. He flew down toward it and observed the range’s craggy slopes.
Was this the place?
He hadn’t been here in years but it still looked the same.
Moss roared as he descended from the sky.
He scratched a rune into the air and it dissipated quickly.
Then he scratched another one. It vanished like smoke.
Determined, he carved a final rune into the sky, and it flashed.
When the flash disappeared, an entire city glimmered on the slopes, built into the sides of the mountain. There were domed temples large enough for dragons to fit in, and austere stone homes that looked as if they housed elves or humans. They looked like mushrooms on the side of the mountain. An ancient city.
He hadn’t forgotten the location after all.
The city was just as he remembered—mysterious and well-hidden. He still couldn’t believe that it existed.
He landed in the middle of a colonnaded amphitheater that overlooked the sea.
“Help!” he cried. “Help!”
Two elves stood on the stage of the amphitheater and looked at him sullenly. They were dressed in white and wore gold necklaces that gleamed in the sun.
“You!” Moss yelled pointing at them. “I demand your assistance!”
A deep voice sounded behind Moss.
“I knew you were coming for miles. You didn’t exactly cover your flight path.”
Moss whipped around.
Fenroot stood atop the mountain. His swarthy, silver scales shone like metal in the sunrise. He had somewhat of a pot belly, but his muscular form dominated the mountain slope.
He jumped into the air and landed in front of Moss.
“If you’re here for the reason I think you’re here—”
“I don’t need money,” Moss said. “I’m here because he—he—”
Moss turned pale.
“What is it?” Fenroot asked.
“Old Dark is risen.”
The revelation struck Fenroot as if it were a mere piece of regular news. He did not immediately respond.
“Why would I lie?” Moss asked.
“Have you seen him?” Fenroot asked.
“No, but—”
“No?”
Fenroot roared in Moss’s face. “You fool!”
“You are the fool,” Moss said, not standing down. “My daughters are dead. He killed them in cold blood.”
Fenroot growled and scratched his claws on the rocky ground.
“The prophecy was true after all,” Moss said. “It said he would—”
Fenroot roared again and silenced him. He held up a claw. Magic gathered into it, and the claw split in half as he shot a burst of purple energy into the air. It exploded into a loud siren that ripped through the entire mountain city.
Fenroot laughed. “The old bastard is back to settle the score, eh? I’ve been waiting for him.”
A massive shadow darkened the amphitheater. A fleet of dragons hovered over them.
Moss heard a fleet of footsteps. All around them, elven soldiers surrounded them. They wore white robes and carried grimoires.
The dragons and elves awaited Fenroot’s command.
“I’ve been preparing for this day for a thousand years,” Fenroot said.
He pointed west, toward the endless sea. “Aquiferians, today is the day you’ve trained for!”
The dragons flew out over the sea and the elves began to march down the mountainside.
Fenroot followed them, scowling.
“Time to finish what I started.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
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Turn the page to read the first two chapters of Old Wicked, the third and final book in the series.
Old Wicked Excerpt
I
Dark couldn’t beli
eve his eyes as Norwyn stood in front of him.
Norwyn the White!
His confidante, advisor, trusted friend. In a world that constantly and consistently challenged his power, he could always depend on the white dragon to give him an honest opinion.
In the simulated bog on the roof of Frog’s skyscraper, Norwyn looked as if he’d always looked…yet slightly pale.
The white dragon greeted Dark with bright, cobalt eyes and a wrinkled face. When he and Dark were young, their scales were smooth. Norwyn’s were as smooth as an avalanche rolling down a mountain; one thousand years later, he had aged and the wrinkled scales around his nose showed. He had a hump in his back. His lips were slightly blue and his teeth slightly yellowed. Old age, indeed. As Dark surveyed his old friend, he felt comfort at the fact that someone else had also weathered the corridors of time.
Dark reached out to embrace Norwyn but he passed through the dragon and stumbled into the wet grass. He looked at the dragon, perplexed that he was standing right in front of him, yet he was not!
Norwyn flashed, his blue eyes sparkling, and the corner of his mouth pulled into an almost imperceptible grin.
“Don’t worry,” Norwyn said, his hologram flurrying like falling snow. “We’ll be able to embrace soon.”
Dark wiped morning dew from his face, trying to hide his surprise.
The future was strange. Dark had seen many things that he couldn’t comprehend—tall buildings, television, magical construction, Moss’s daughters. After all, he was on top of a skyscraper in a fake bog that was magicked to look and feel like home. The water was real, the peat was real, the smoky, swampy smell was real.
But how did he know this was the real Norwyn?
“Norwyn, old friend, you look ill,” Dark said.
“What you see is a hologram,” Norwyn said. He walked around the water’s edge and brought his face near the surface. His reflection flickered along with the staticky hologram. The white orb that hovered over his head and served as a projector followed him as he walked.
Old Evil (The Last Dragon Lord Book 2) Page 21