Realm Of Blood And Fire (Book 3)

by Dionne Lister

  Yes.

  Why a dragon?

  It was here before we were. My forefathers decided to build the city there because they thought the dragon would guard and protect them. There is another statue I will show you later if we, well, you know, survive this.

  The dragons slowed, flying lower—low enough that people in the neatly laid out streets began to look up and point. Arie smiled to see the swathes of purple, pink, yellow, red and blue that were splashed against the sides of the four–and-five-level buildings. They were flying slow enough that he could yell and be heard. “Are they the flowers you were talking about?”

  “Yes.” Moisture spilled over her lower lashes, and she tried to fool herself into believing it was from the sun or wind. She had been gone so long; worry that everything would have changed beyond recognition had plagued her for the entire journey. Even worse was that it hadn’t changed. Years of childhood memories filled her thoughts, overflowing like the flowers in the pots below.

  Not able to yell through her tears, she used her mind-voice. Over there, to the left. The low-set building with the grass and trees on top.

  “Wow!” Arie called out. “It’s like a park. Isn’t all that dirt and stuff heavy? How come the roof doesn’t cave in?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said into his ear.

  Hold on, Warrimonious warned before they alighted with a thump onto the rooftop grass. The realmists climbed down.

  Agmunsten took his jacket off and shoved it into his pack. “It’s certainly warm here.”

  “Our winter is almost as warm as your summer.” Astra laughed. She walked to the waist-high wall that defined the edge of the roof and looked over. Her heart raced as she took in as much as she could, including the enticing aromas of many breakfasts cooking. A mother and her child stared at them from a balcony directly opposite, their neighbors to the left staring open-mouthed. The city-dwellers wore bright-colored, loose clothing, and most had the same dark, curly hair as Astra. Many men and women hurried along the street—the day had well and truly begun.

  The realmist waved at the gawking woman and child then turned to her companions. “Well, we certainly managed to make an entrance. I guess it’s time to shake things up around here.”

  Agmunsten looked at Arie. “Find a tree, go to the bathroom, then sit near Warrimonious. You have to be ready to fly at a moment’s notice.”

  “Again with the reminding me to go to the bathroom!” The boy threw his hands in the air.

  Astra hugged him. “Stay safe. With a bit of luck, we’ll be calling you down shortly to meet our new allies.”

  “I hope so.” He returned the hug.

  As Zim, Agmunsten and Astra found the door to the lower levels, Arie waved. “Good luck!”

  “Thanks,” Astra replied as she grabbed the handle. The door was unlocked and opened easily.

  Zim considered the doorway. “I’m not going to fit through there. Why don’t I fly you to the ground, and I can flame the main doors open? That would be more impressive, as far as making an entrance is concerned; don't you think?”

  Agmunsten rubbed his ear. “I think you’re right. Okay. Astra, after you.” She climbed onto Zim followed by the older realmist.

  “This is going to be fun.” Agmunsten rubbed his hands together before holding onto Astra’s waist.

  Zim walked to the ledge and stretched his wings out. His shadow darkened the road below. Pedestrians looked up. When they saw the hulking black dragon poised menacingly on the precipice of the rooftop, they ran for cover. In moments, the street emptied. Zim pushed off with his thick legs, and within seconds they had glided to the ground.

  The tall, black double doors to the building had large gilded knockers. Rather than use them, Zim took a deep breath. Exhaling, a gush of flames poured from his mouth. The doors ignited and quickly burnt to ash. Astra nodded. “Nice work, Zim. Sure beats waiting for someone to answer.” The dragon grinned, his teeth gleaming in the morning sun and causing a woman on the inside of the building to scream.

  Zim ducked as they stepped through the still-warm opening, and Astra coughed on the smoke. Two short, stocky men with swords confronted them while the screaming woman ran behind a large reception desk and hid. A door at the back of the vast foyer opened and one golden-robed man strode through, his dark, curly hair contained with a triangular black cap. Two taller green-robed men followed. The man with the golden-colored garments called out something that Agmunsten couldn’t understand.

  “Amkal ophenstra apoukt,” Astra replied. She glared at the men with swords and raised her hands. They half-heartedly lifted their swords but stepped back at the same time. Zim could smell their fear.

  Astra mumbled a few words and gestured. The swords fell from the guards’ hands and clattered to the ground. They looked at each other and ran the other way, pushing past the robed men and through the other door. Nice work, Astra. Stone Swords manifestation, I presume? Heaviest swords around. He chuckled.

  Why, yes, Agmunsten. Good guess. Astra put her hands up, palms facing the advancing councilmen. She said something else, which she translated for Agmunsten and Zim. “I’ve told them to stop or I’d call down lightning.”

  “Tell them we just want to talk, but we won’t hesitate to start killing people if they won’t listen.”

  Astra nodded before speaking to her countrymen. The three men conferred before the black-hatted one answered. Agmunsten folded his arms and tapped his foot on the floor. The man finally stopped talking, and Astra turned to her companions. “Well, do you want the bad news or the other bad news?”

  “Give it to us straight,” said Zim.

  “High Chancellor Calinsar, the one who hates the eastern countries, is in power. Secondly, it’s been ordered that any dragons seen are to be killed on sight.”

  “What? Why?” Agmunsten turned his head to look back into the street, to make sure reinforcements weren’t coming.

  “Hang on. I’ll ask.”

  Their leader spoke for a while, gesticulating to emphasize certain points. Just as he finished, more robed men entered through the far door.

  Astra furrowed her brow. “Alphenston, mangut ashestan. Melphin abustring alt ephinston. Lenst imish ephis.”

  The leader looked past Astra and grinned.

  “It’s time to run,” said Agmunsten, gripping Astra’s sleeve.

  “I think we’re too late for that.” Zim looked at the score of soldiers blocking the opening. “It’s time for more dragon breath.”

  Astra put a hand on his arm. “Do we have to kill them?”

  “Have you got a better way that won’t drain all your energy? You can’t draw Second-Realm power all day.”

  “Better I draw it now than save it for later when it’s too late.” Astra lifted her hands and swept her arms in an arc.

  One of the soldiers shouted, “Craackt!”

  There was no need for translation as the metal-armored soldiers ran toward the realmists, weapons poised to strike. The first of them reached Zim, his sword aimed for the dragon’s belly. He stabbed it toward the dragon before stopping abruptly, his arm jarred. Another of the soldiers swung a backhanded slice at Agmunsten’s neck. He yelped and grabbed his wrist when the sword met the shield Astra had constructed. The barrier deflected blow after blow, although Astra winced.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can hold this.” She gritted her teeth, and sweat dampened her brow.

  “Astra,” Arcon said as he touched her arm, “the only way out is that way.” He pointed to the door. “A few of them are behind us, but we’re going to have to kill a few to get out. We need to regroup. And I won’t let them kill Zim.”

  “I won’t let them kill me either. Sorry, Astra, but I’m past playing nice.”

  “Okay. I’ll drop the shield at the front. Clear the way and we’ll run. On three.”

  “Wait! You and Agmunsten get on my back first. We’ll take off and head for a high point just outside the city.” They climbed onto Zim, and he counted
. “One . . . two . . . three!”

  Zim opened his mouth and sprayed fire from left to right. The six soldiers who stood in front of them had little time to react, each one lighting up like a macabre bonfire. Two of them had the sense to drop and roll on the floor, but once it had started, dragon fire was difficult to stop. Stepping around the bodies, Zim rushed into the street, ran and spread his wings. Creating lift with Second-Realm energy, he took off and spoke to Warrimonious at the same time. We’ve had a few problems and are taking off. Follow me to the west. We’re going to find somewhere just outside the city where we can discuss our options and keep an eye on things.

  Okay. I can see you now.

  Astra guided them to a set of wooded hills a few miles outside the city. They landed on a cleared flat where a disused lookout tower stood on an angle, one of its four legs cracked midway from ground to platform. From their vantage point, they could see in all directions for many miles—to the east lay the dark blue ocean; to the west, a small city called Inish created a dark smudge in the greenery; to the south, trees and mountains predominated, and to the north, more snow-capped mountains created an almost impenetrable wall dividing the north of Zamahl from the south.

  “So,” said Warrimonious once they found a partially shaded spot to sit, “what in the Third Realm happened?”

  Everyone looked at Astra. She gripped her hands together in her lap. “Well, it wasn’t quite the homecoming I was hoping for.”

  “Can you blame them? We introduced ourselves by burning their doors down.” Agmunsten raised one brow.

  Astra huffed. “I know, but that was the plan.”

  Zim patted her back. “There was no other way we could have done it. At least they know we’re not easy pickings. It could have gone all right, but you said you had something to tell us.”

  “Other than High Chancellor Calinsar being in charge, there’s a kill-on-sight order for dragons. Apparently there’s an island off the coast, to the north, that has disappeared, a whirlpool in its place. Two fishing boats were swallowed up, and the whirlpool is getting bigger. Everyone’s afraid it will eventually consume Zamahl. The chancellor had a dream showing him that it was the fault of the dragons and King Edmund.”

  Agmunsten slapped the top of his leg. “But that’s ridiculous! We’ve been set up. We’re going to have a Third Realm of a time trying to convince them to help now.”

  “But who would sabotage us?” asked Arie.

  Squashing a bug on her arm, Astra answered, “The only way to find out is to go and see the high chancellor and ask him ourselves. We need to get to the bottom of this quickly.”

  “Where does he live?” Zim asked.

  “The chancellor, whoever that is at the time, lives in the city. When they acquire the position, they get the use of a three-story mansion—not quite as big as one of your castles, but close. We could check it out tonight.” Astra tapped her chin with her forefinger. “But what if he’s not there? He could have traveled to one of the other cities. When I used to live here, there were constant tax-collecting missions, and I doubt anything’s changed. The chancellor doesn’t have to go, but it helps reinforce the idea that he’s always watching. Plus, I think the chancellor enjoys counting the money on the way back.” She laughed.

  “We’ll go tonight,” said Agmunsten. “Warrimonious and Arie can stay here.”

  Arie jumped to his feet. “Why am I always left out of everything? I can channel too, you know.”

  “This isn’t a game, boy. We have no idea what we’re getting ourselves into.” Agmunsten scowled. “I have enough to worry about without worrying about you.”

  “I can look after myself.” He folded his lanky arms in front of his chest.

  “Next time—I promise. Leave this one to us, okay?”

  Arie sniffed and sat down.

  “I could sure use a creatura about now,” said Astra. “A bird would have been good—just send it to fly in and check out the residence.”

  “Why didn’t you ever get one?” Arie asked.

  “I didn’t want to risk forming a close attachment to anyone again. Leaving my family was the most upsetting thing I’ve ever done. If I lost someone else I loved, I don’t think I’d want to go on.”

  Warrimonious stood. “Well, no one has a creatura that can help us right now, so let’s move on. Wait until dark; then you go. Question the first person you find—read their mind if you have to. Before you look at me like I just ate your creatura, remember what’s at stake.”

  Zim nodded. “If he’s home, we question him, and if he’s not, we come back here, grab you and Arie, and we fly to wherever he is. Easy. Now that that’s settled, I’m hungry. What’s say you and I go hunting for some sheep, Warrimonious?”

  The other dragon grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

  “But someone will see you.”

  “Don’t worry, Arie,” said Zim. “It will be good to create a few rumors of our whereabouts. We’ll hunt somewhere far from here until dark. By the time we return, no one will have any idea where we are.”

  “Be careful,” Astra warned. “Remember there’s a price on your heads.”

  “We will.” Warrimonious smiled before making his way to the western side of the hilltop. “Bye,” he said as he spread his wings and jumped off the edge.

  The humans watched as Zim and Warrimonious flew to the west—two frightening, yet majestic, figures, black against the blue horizon. “I hope they scare a few Zamahlans.” Arie laughed.

  “Me too, Arie. Me too.” Agmunsten clapped him on the shoulder and smiled.

  Astra didn’t smile; in fact, she didn’t hear what they said—she was too busy worrying about the coming night. Her sixth sense told her that something was off, and it had never been wrong before. She tried to distract herself by picking through her pack. “Who wants something to eat?” she asked as she held out an apple. Agmunsten shook his head, but Arie grabbed it. Reaching into her pack again, she found another for herself. Biting into it, she thought: Enjoy it, Astra. It could be your last.

  Chapter 12

  It was after midnight, and the clouds obscured the moon. A group of horses and riders stood in shadow next to the towering stone wall that surrounded Bayerlon, readying to leave. Edmund kept his voice low. “Chisholm, I’m trusting you to keep them safe. Guard them with your life.”

  “Yes, sir.” The young soldier stood at attention and held the king’s gaze.

  “If you need to send King Valdorryn or I a message, Fendill the realmist can do it. We’ll keep you updated through him, too. Make good time, and may the gods be with you.”

  Chisholm turned and mounted his black gelding. With a swift kick of his heels, he led his charges to the south, toward Vellonia.

  Verity and Queen Gabrielle both looked over their shoulders at Edmund until he was an unidentifiable shape in the dark. The princess shivered, although the night was not cold. She had avoided riding since she had returned from Inkra. The last time she had ridden out here, she had been with Boy. They had been attacked, and Verity had been kidnapped by men working for her uncle. With the traumatic memories filling her mind, she strained her eyes in looking to the left, to the right, to the left again, seeking danger in the pools of darkness that lived under the trees, behind the thickets and on the road behind them. The presence of her father’s soldiers did little to placate her fear.

  Unable to seek comfort in conversation until they were far from Bayerlon, Verity tried to calm herself by thinking of her dead friend. Boy had risked his life to save her. Died to save her. He had been so young. And she would bet that if he were here, he would ride alongside her without fear in his heart. Lend me strength, my friend, she thought and forced her hands to loosen their stranglehold on the reins.

  Ahead of her, Chisholm nudged his horse into a trot, and the others followed. When they had passed a large village about an hour south of Bayerlon, the soldier slowed his horse to a walk and gave them leave to talk. Karin rode next to him, while Queen Gabrielle and
Fendill chatted. Sarah joined Verity. “Are you all right, Verity?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  Sarah smiled. “Only because I know you so well. This isn’t like the time you went riding with Boy. We have Fendill, who’s a realmist, and all these soldiers. And we know our enemy is out there.”

  “I know you’re right. It’s hard to explain. I jump at noises in the castle day and night. The nightmares still come. The dreams with Leon are the worst. His monstrous form, that thing he turned into, talks to me, and it keeps calling me ‘daughter’.”

  Gabrielle, riding behind with Fendill, looked at Verity and swallowed her gasp.

  “Is anything the matter, my queen?” asked the realmist.

  “Ah, no. I just hate hearing that Verity is still having nightmares.” She turned to look him in the eyes, her hand going to her throat. “You know, there is nothing worse than seeing your child suffer, especially when there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

  “I’ve heard. Having no children of my own, I cannot truly understand.”

  “Do you think you ever will have children?”

  “I don’t think so. To tell you the truth, I haven’t thought much about it. All my energy was on working for Leon, and now with the war . . . who would want to bring up a child in those conditions? The point might be irrelevant in a few weeks, anyway.”

  Gabrielle frowned. “Have confidence, Fendill. Did you ever think you’d escape Inkra and Leon? From what you and Pernus have told us, escape was almost impossible, yet you managed to reach Bayerlon, and you saved two others in the process. We will reach Vellonia, and Edmund will join us soon. Talia will rise to the challenge, and the gormons will be defeated. I won’t hear any more talk of losing. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Good.”

  He looked at her as if he wanted to ask a question, but the moment passed in silence. “I’d better go and check in with Chisholm.” He bowed and left.