“Yessss,” Crystal hissed again. “Trussst me Jenka. I can take you to Zahrellion. Then we can go find Jade and Prince Richard together.”
Had Zahrellion not told him a little bit about the two times she had ridden on Crystal's back, Jenka might have declined, but the idea he'd just had for King Blanchard and the massive flotilla of ships was already evolving in his mind. With Zah beside him, he knew he wouldn’t feel so inept. She could use High Magic, and something about her gave him the confidence he needed to succeed.
With more than a little electric excitement starting to tingle through his veins, he climbed up on the icy-white dragon's back and wiggled his arse between two of her triangular spinal plates. Before he knew what was happening, he was being jerked roughly forward. Once, then again, his head whipped backwards, but after that they were in the air, and King’s Island was falling away below them.
Despite all of the uncertainty and fear he felt, Jenka was thrilled to the marrow of his bones by the sensation of flying on the dragon’s back. For a long, long while he could do little else but enjoy the freedom and magnificence of the ride. But then the sun started to set behind them, and the prospect of flying in the darkness gave him reason for concern.
“I can see plainly in the night, Jenka,” Crystal comforted into his head before he could even ask the question aloud. “There are many things we dragons can do that you don’t know about.”
“Just don’t crash into the water, Crystal,” Jenka thought back to her. “I never learned how to swim.”
For some reason, the big white dragon thought that was funny.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A group of men, women, and children were holed up in a well-built stone keep just southwest of Del, on the mainland. The rider they had sent to Midwal had miraculously gotten through, and now Commander Charvin, the highest ranking member of military presently at the Midwal Gate, was organizing a party to ride out and try and rescue them. Rikky Camile volunteered to go, but had been turned away because of his missing leg. The commander noted his bravery. Rikky cursed the man, and then rolled back into one of the pavilions erected to keep the weather off the wounded refugees that had made it to safety.
Rikky had found a calling of sorts. His healing work wasn’t nearly as refined as Master Vahlda’s had been, but he could stop a man from bleeding out, or knit a broken bone back together if he had a solid nap between attempts.
He had told the commander, and anyone who would listen, that it had been the crown prince riding the blue dragon that had carried him and Jess over the wall to safety. They all listened, and a lot of them even believed his tale. Enough men had tried to loose arrows and spears at the sparkling blue that the event couldn’t be denied, but the idea that it was King Blanchard’s son riding on the wyrm was received skeptically.
Rikky’s leg was still too raw for him to use his prosthesis, but a man that knew Jess knew another man who quickly built Rikky a chair with wagon’s wheels attached to the side. With it, he wheeled himself around the encampment that had risen up around the Midwal gates. The league of open road that separated the city called Midwal from the Midwal Gate was now populated with the refugees from the frontier who were lucky enough to escape the hordes of trolls and goblins. Ricky spent his time helping Spell Master Gahry and the novice healers tend to the wounded among those folk, but he spent every other waking hour trying to walk with his wooden peg leg.
At the last moment, the apprentice healer who had volunteered to go with Commander Charvin’s rescue party decided that he was more comfortable staying behind the Great Wall. The man had no reservation about showing his cowardice, and the commander was left in a pickle. The instant Rikky heard this, he wheeled himself out to the gates, where a steady rain had begun to fall on the waiting party.
“I’m no coward,” he called out to the commander. “Are you?”
“No, boy,” the commander answered with a look of respect that wasn’t lost on any man there. “Get in a wagon, and keep track of your own chair. Can you ride if it comes to it?”
“Aye,” Rikky nodded. “Can I go get my peg leg? I’ll be walking with it before long, I assure you.”
“I have no doubt you will.” The commander nodded. “But I’ll send a man to get it. We need to get you loaded up.”
A few hours later, the rain was still coming steadily down. The scattered forest lining the road outside the gates provided little or no cover from the nasty storm, but the traveling was relatively safe because the trolls and dragons were hunkered down out of the weather.
Rikky felt terrible that he was getting to ride in a covered supply wagon. From underneath the dry canvas covering he could see some of the others struggling in the rain. They looked to be wet and miserable. The group was made up of three wagons, each carrying a driver and two other men. Each wagon had an equal share of the supplies, in case one of them got separated from the others. There were eight horsemen riding guard, and they appeared to be confident and capable men. Commander Charvin was one of them, looking every bit the part of a hardened veteran frontiersman. He wore the red shield of the Walguard proudly on his steel chest armor, and he carried a big, double-bladed battle axe. His men wore more functional chain mail armor and were armed with longbows, crossbows, and polished swords. The tunics they wore all bore the mark of the Walguard as well.
The idea was to travel through the night until the next day broke, then camp in the daylight. That way, they could make the old keep, where the refugees were trapped, as the sun was coming up the following day. If the ill weather held out, they could probably get the task done with little incident, but Rikky could tell by the clouds that the rain would soon blow over. After that, who knew what would happen.
The rain didn’t stop that night, but as they were making the first camp, the clouds parted and the most perfect of days began. It was a slightly steamy, early summer morning and the birds and wildlife were enjoying it almost as much as the men were.
Rikky tried to sleep, but he couldn’t. The day was just that wonderful. He sat in his wheeled chair watching a pair of scarlet butterflies flutter about a smattering of tiny turquoise flowers and reveled in the feel of the sun on his skin when the alarm was called. Someone had spotted a dragon in the sky and now men were screaming about trolls coming in fast from the north.
An archer that also served as the cook helped Rikky into his wagon and got him a crossbow, as well as a quarrel of bolts. Stones came flying in, and the sounds of chattering goblins could be heard. The wagon jerked forward, and Rikky was nearly tumbled out of the back over the wooden latch gate.
He caught his balance and fired a bolt at a troll that was about to pull one of the Walguard from his horse. The man stabbed the troll in the collar with his sword and yanked the blade out in a gush of black blood. He gave Rikky a nod, but Rikky was busy fighting to reload his weapon and didn’t see him.
After he got the crossbow reloaded, he grabbed his wooden leg and strapped it on. It was no easy task in the bouncing, swaying wagon, but he managed it. He wasn’t about to get stranded without it again. When he looked back out of the wagon, he saw a horse and man getting pulled down by a swarm of little, ash-colored goblins, as another man spurred his mount just out of their reach. Arrows were flying back at the attackers as the fleeing men and wagons pulled away. They seemed to be putting some distance between them, but then, a deep umber-colored dragon roared out just overhead, and blasted Rikky’s wagon with its flaming breath. Rikky waited until the wagon slowed a bit, then jumped headlong out from under the flaming canvas. He tumbled in a half-controlled roll, then hobbled upright and started screaming from the pain that shot up through his stump. He bore the sickening agony and started hobbling alongside a rider-less horse that had escaped the goblins with only minor wounds. The Walguard rider he had saved earlier turned his mount and reined in beside Rikky, blocking the horse's escape. He loosed three arrows in rapid succession, keeping the pursuing goblins at bay, buying Rikky the time he needed to pull himself into the sad
dle. After that was a mad dash through the thickets, into a more densely canopied copse of forest. The one wagon that had broken away with Rikky and the Walguard rolled up into the trees, until it wedged itself stuck. Then the driver and the box man started coming after the two mounted men on foot. After a while the four of them settled in a cluster of tightly-rooted pine trees, and tried to gather their breath. It was then that Rikky felt something flare to life inside him, something powerful and inexplicable, like nothing else he had ever felt before in his life. The horse underneath him felt it, too, and it shivered with fear. Somewhere away from them, the sound of men being savaged by goblins and trolls resounded.
Behind Rikky, the Walguard sucked in a heavy breath. “There’s another dragon,” he whispered shakily. “It’s as fargin silver as a sword, and it’s right here.” The roar that blasted from behind them caused Rikky’s terrified horse to bolt. It carried him headfirst into a low-hanging limb. The blow knocked him out of the saddle and almost knocked him unconscious. When he squinted through the haze of his bludgeoned vision he saw that the Walguard and the other two wagoneers had fled. The silver-scaled wyrm came crashing into the clump of pine trees and loomed its big head over him, baring a full set of slathering, arm-long fangs. Rikky was drenched in fear. He could do little more than clench shut his eyes and hope that death was swift.
Prince Richard was dying inside, and he knew it. The horrors that Gravelbone forced him to witness were beyond vile. He had just been made to choose which of three men would get the swift death of the Goblin King’s blade, and which two would feed the demon’s personal little band of ever-hungry goblins.
After he cleaved the head from the man Richard had chosen, Gravelbone kicked it into the ogre cage where Richard was still huddled. The demon troll laughed manically when one of the stupefied green beasts started playing with it. Gravelbone and the nightshade had gone off then, back out to find more innocent people to bring back and kill for the crown prince.
What the ivory-horned bastard’s ultimate goal was, Prince Richard had no idea, but if it was to drive him into madness, it was working. He had lost all sense of humanity. He even found himself sometimes anticipating the deadly displays. The idea of seeing the innocent people of the frontier butchered or eaten alive sickened him, yet he couldn’t seem to keep from looking forward to the foul events. The fact that he could recognize his own disgusting enjoyment for what it was made it all the worse. He was about to succumb. But then, one night, he had a dream, and everything started to change.
He dreamt that he was flying with a young green dragon. It was Jenka’s green; the yearling called Jade. He wasn’t riding on a dragon’s back. He was inside a dragon’s consciousness. He caught a glimpse of his own bright-blue wing leather, and knew instantly that Royal was somehow still alive. Prince Richard was flying in spirit with his bond-mate. With this realization, pain struck him all along his long neck and behind his shoulder-blades where his wing joints were. It was a pain like nothing he had ever felt before, and the intensity of it threw him back into wakefulness just in time to hear Gravelbone and the nightshade returning again.
The Goblin King didn’t have a human offering this time. It had two ogres. One of them was no bigger than a man, which meant that it was most likely still an adolescent. The other had heavy, hanging breasts, and was obviously the mother of the younger creature. The nightshade prodded them along with its fearsome-looking head, and by the way the two ogres were sobbing, Richard figured that the father had died trying to defend his family. The swath of shining, sticky blood that decorated the nightshade's chin and neck lent to that conclusion. Gravelbone immediately noticed the crown prince’s interest in the new arrivals and started mumbling to himself proudly in his half-gibberish way.
“Wan Prins kom kiw dees wans,” the Goblin King said to Prince Richard as he eased over toward the ogre cage. “Wan Prins kom kut em up, yeah!”
Richard swallowed hard. He had come to understand the Goblin King’s deep voice and ramblings. “Want Prince to come kill these ones, want Prince to come cut them up,” was what Richard heard. Although they were just ogres, he wasn’t sure if he could do it, which was odd to him because he had already chosen the order of death for several of his fellow humans.
Those people were going to die no matter who you chose, he told himself. These ogres are going to die whether it’s you who kills them, or the orcs and goblins who do it. Or are they?
The empty hole in his spirit was now filling with hope for Royal, and a newfound resolve was formed in his heart. He snorted and grinned crazily, and looked at Gravelbone with wild eyes, the same look he gave his opponents on the tilt yard just before a joust.
“I’ll kill `em for you, you foul cretin,” he said, as he mimicked the action of shooting with a bow and arrow. “I’ll kill `em from right here.”
Gravelbone laughed and barked out an order to one of the four orcs guarding the cage. “Jus wan aroo,” the Goblin King added. “Jus giv `em wan.”
The orc chuckled nervously, its dark, greasy face full of contempt. It poked the longbow and a single arrow down at Richard through the bone bars of the ogre cage and then backed quickly away, in case Richard decided to shoot him with the shaft.
Gravelbone thought this was funny and half threatened to feed the orc to the goblins if it didn’t grow some spine.
“Wha wan?” the Goblin King asked excitedly. “Wha wah yoo gon kiw?”
Richard tested the draw on the finely-crafted bow and looked across the cavern at the trembling pair of ogre. Behind them, and half blocking the tunnel that led up to the surface, the nightshade curled up to rest and digest a meal it had recently eaten.
Prince Richard took careful aim at the mother ogre first. Then he shifted the direction of his aim over a fraction to the smaller creature. It had pleading, angry eyes, as if it would have willingly died fighting rather than be killed like this. When he was absolutely certain that the young ogre was looking back at him, he lowered his bow and pointed down the cavern the way they had come in.
“Whas dis?” the Goblin King asked angrily.
Before anything could stop him, Prince Richard brought the bow back up and aimed it at the mother ogre, but only until Gravelbone started chuckling victoriously. Richard loosed the arrow, but not at either of the green-skinned creatures. The arrow flew swiftly right past them and struck true, right into one of the nightshade's huge nostrils. When the hellborn wyrm rose up, roaring out its pain and anger, the Prince squeezed through the cage bars and charged the orc that had given him the bow. He threw the bow at it, and when it raised up its arms protectively, he sliced it with the big button he had sharpened. He cut across the open skin under the arm that the orc’s crude armor didn’t cover.
The other three orcs tackled him in a matter of seconds, but the two ogres had taken off running out of the cavern, and the nightshade’s anguished thrashing was blocking any form of pursuit. A few of the hungry little goblins might have squeezed through, but if the two ogres couldn’t fight their way out, it was no longer Richard’s concern. He had done all he could for them, and now he had enough to worry about on his own. Gravelbone was charging over to clamp his palm on Richard's head and boil his marrow again.
Richard had never been so afraid in his life. He would rather die than feel that terrible pain again. He didn’t have that option, and when the claw latched onto his forehead this time, the sensation was devastating.
Chapter Twenty-Four
From a great distance across the sea, Zahrellion saw her dragon coming, and her heart leapt with joy because of it. Even in her elation, her mind started contemplating how she could get from the ship onto Crystal’s back. There was no way the dragon could land on the ship, not without destroying the sails and the masts. Crystal was just too big. Her attention was averted from that subject when she noticed that her dragon had a rider. When Jenka shook his uneven blond bangs out of his face and squinted at the ship, he reminded her of a hero from some ancient tale. She noticed
instantly that he was wearing the wide-shouldered leather armor she had picked out for him back in Three Forks. He looked good in it, and he looked comfortable riding on the dragon’s shining back. As she worked to quell the warmth that was spreading inside her, she wondered why he hadn’t gone directly after Jade.
Some of the men in the rigging saw the dragon, too. They started calling down warnings to the others.
Zah called out across the vessel as loud as she could, “If any man so much as thinks of firing an arrow or throwing a spear, I will blast them myself.” A crackling orb of energy, pulsing pink and yellow, formed between her hands. She held it as if it were a ball she was about to hurl. The audible sound of several men gulping at the same time resounded over the waves.
“Stand down, men,” the captain ordered from behind her. He had a long brass looking tube in his hand, and looked more than a little nervous. “There’s a man riding that wyrm, and the lass here is full o’magic. I think, between the three of them and that other skittish druid, they could sink us if they wanted to. Not much a few pointed sticks is gonna do but rile `em up more.”
“Aye, Cap'n,” a man said.
“Aye,” the others agreed.
“Thank you,” Zah said. “I need to get on that dragon’s back, Captain,” she turned and smiled, and let the crackling orb extinguish in her hands. The terrified look on the man’s face was priceless. “Any suggestions?”
He stammered and harrumphed. To his credit, the roll and sway of the ship had no effect on his stature when it caused Zah to have to take a few steps to catch her balance. “Cargo boom,” he said flatly. “We can swing you out and the beast, uh…the dragon, I mean, can get its neck right under, if its wings en’t too wide.”
“Which one?” She indicated the masts and the confusing mess of spars and crossbeams that the sails were rigged to.
“You're just gonna go, on a dragon? Just like that?” he asked incredulously.
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